A Wartime Romance
by Rhodanthe
Summary: Set immediately after Biggles Fails to Return, the story unfolds over the next two years. A behind-the -scenes story. The italics in the opening chapter are WE Johns own words. Some of the chapters are short and were done so as to provide logical break points.
1. Chapter 1

**November 1942**

Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth came slowly down the steps of the Air Ministry and onto Kingsway. The wound on his side had begun to play up with the exertions of the last days in Monaco but the week's rest in Algiers had gone someway to heal it.

Reports had been completed to their satisfaction and Air Commodore Raymond had expressed his gratitude.

_"Well that's that," remarked Biggles. 'I suppose we might as well get back to the squadron."_

_"I've got a spot of leave to finish if you don't mind, sir," said Ginger meekly._

_Biggles raised his eyebrows "What do you want leave for?"_

_"Well, I've got to see my tailors about a new uniform and one or two other things" explained Ginger in an offhand way._

_Biggles smiled. Algy shook his head sadly. Bertie winked._

_"Give her my love and all that sort of rot-if you see what I mean?"_

_"You run away and polish your eyeglass, troubadour," sneered Ginger and hailed a passing taxi_

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," called Algy as the taxi drove away.

"Women!" snorted Bertie. "They'll be the ruin of him."

"Possibly," said Algy. "He's young, attractive, and enjoys a bit of fun. He can't help it if WAAF girls on the base are falling over themselves for his attention. Up until now he's not been bothered. More than one good man has been bowled over by a pretty face before, and done stupid things."

"But Jeanette could also be the making of him," he added hastily, as he glanced at Biggles' face. "Shall we head back?"

"You go ahead. I'll catch you at Victoria."

Algy nodded understandingly. "Come on Bertie, old fruit. I'll stand you an ice cream."

"An ice cream!" exclaimed Bertie. "I should jolly well think so if you can find one!"

Biggles sank onto the step and lit a cigarette. He remembered back to the closing days of the first war.

Marie.

His first love.

He remembered the happy days as if it was yesterday and how sharp and bitter the pain of betrayal had been in contrast.

Over the years he'd tried to tell himself he didn't care, but still he wondered what had happened to her. Had she really loved him? She must have, or she wouldn't have come back to leave a letter. Could he have continued to love her? Could he have lived with himself? She tried to destroy his friends that day. Life without Algy was unthinkable. Had he really been so stupid as to fall for a pretty face and throw caution to the winds?

He'd known her a week. He'd been lucky to have come out of the whole affair without a court-martial He knew he'd been vulnerable, having returned from a distasteful posting in Palestine to the news his brother had been killed in action. He'd let down his guard.

He'd only been a kid, even younger than Ginger.

He stabbed his cigarette out viciously and lit another, inhaling deeply.

Bah!

He hoped Ginger would never have to feel the same kind of pain or to suffer the consequences of his own stupidity. But judging from Ginger's reaction, he was as capable of being equally as hot-headed as he himself had been.

Suddenly he felt old.

His body ached and he was dog tired.

He stood up. The morning's sunny sky had clouded over and matched his mood. The twinge in his side reminded him of his recent injury.

Well, he wouldn't let his past blight the boy's future. He'd have to keep an eye on Ginger and made sure he straightened up and flew right, as Algy had tried to do for him over so many years.

But sometimes he wondered if the pain would ever go away. Would it continue to dog him until he went topsides?

"Maybe the sooner the better for all," he thought bitterly, grinding out his cigarette.

"'Captain James'!" A young cheerful voice broke in on his thoughts.

He turned to see the speaker and found himself looking into a large pair of very alive brown eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

"By Jove, 'Miss Mary'!" Biggles exclaimed in surprise. "It's been simply ages!"

She smiled, her eyes crinkling around the edges in the way he remembered well.

She'd changed a little since he last had seen her. Instead of schoolgirl plaits, her dark brown hair was tied back and pinned in place at the back of her neck. The large brown eyes sparkled in her heart-shaped face. Her slight olive colouring and full lips betrayed the Anglo-Indian heritage on her mother's side. She had grown since he had last seen her, and now was almost the same height as he. His heart lightened as he looked at her.

"Have you come to see your father?"

"Oh dear me no! He'll act like I've tried to smuggle Hitler into the war office if I haven't made an appointment," said Mary with a laugh. "Mother included a letter for him with mine this morning and I'll leave it with his secretary."

Her eyes examined his tired and emaciated face keenly. "What about a spot of tea and a catch up? I could just do with a cup and I'm sure you could too. If you have time that is," she added.

Biggles paused. He was tired and sore, but the faint wistful note in her voice didn't escape him. He couldn't be rude. He'd known her a long time. And he did need a cup of tea, didn't he?

"That would be nice."

"Lovely. I'll be back directly," and with that Mary Raymond ran up the steps and into the building.

Biggles watched her lithe figure go and tried to remember the last time he had seen her run. Was it when Ginger had pinched her hat or her brother had put a frog in her teacup?

He must be getting soft. Bertie would think so for accepting the invitation.

"There! That's done. Shall we?" Mary was back; her eyes scanning his face carefully, noting the shadows and lines that now marred his still boyish face.

Biggles eyes met hers for a second. "We shall," he said with a smile.

* * *

The tea shop, surprisingly, wasn't particularly busy for that time of day.

"This is what passes for afternoon tea these days," sighed Mary, looking at the meagre slices of cake on the plate. "Still, at least it doesn't come out of the rations! Shall I be mother and pour?"

"Please."

Mary put down the teapot. "So what have you been doing since I last saw you?"

"Fighting a war," snarled Biggles.

Mary dropped the tea strainer she had been holding with a clatter and looked stricken.

"Sorry Biggles I didn't mean it like that."

Biggles looked contrite. "I know you didn't, kid. It hasn't been an easy couple of weeks and I took my beastly temper out on you. I'm sorry Mary."

"Would it help to tell me about it?"

Their eyes met. Biggles saw the compassion in her brown eyes. He felt... something. He put it down as hunger.

"It might. I'm not sure what I can and if I can, if you see what I mean?"

"Yes. Take your time."

Biggles took a sip of his tea.

"A few weeks ago I was asked to go somewhere to do something. The situation was more complicated than expected and became more so when I stopped a bullet. It looked as if I would be staying where I was for the duration." Biggles spoke quietly and in a monotone. "Algy, Ginger and Bertie came to find me, and in doing so Ginger caught one in the thigh and Bertie got a knock on the head. They found me. We had to leave quickly and bring some people home. Ginger has fallen in love with one of the girls." He laughed bitterly.

"Have some more tea."

Biggles took another gulp and crumbled some cake on his plate, his fingers shaking slightly.

Mary looked at them thoughtfully.

"Why should Ginger being in love upset you so much? Is there something objectionable about the girl?"

"Jeanette? No! It's just..., I just..."

"Are you afraid he will get hurt?"

Biggles paused to think for a moment. "Or someone else. Or do something stupid."

"Biggles, it's war. War itself is stupid. It's inevitable that some people we love will get hurt. But being in love doesn't have to hurt."

Biggles looked up and his red-rimmed eyes met hers in silent anguish.

"Oh Biggles!" Mary took his cold hand. The circle of her identity bracelet made a warm spot on his wrist. "Who did this to you, my friend?" she asked gently.

He looked down at her hand holding his for a moment debating whether to remove it before replying.

"Her name was Marie. I met her in the last days of the first war. I did something incredibly stupid – delivered a letter over the lines to her father. It had a secret map with the location of our squadron marked on it. It was going to be bombed by the Germans. It failed. She left me a letter telling me she had come to take me away that night or die with me and she loved me.

The brass-hats somehow found out about her. I was shot down in flames in more ways than one."

"Could you have continued to love a woman you believed killed your friends?"

"I found myself asking that question earlier today," he answered slowly. "No. And I probably couldn't have lived with myself had she succeeded. You don't want to think someone you love is capable of cold-blooded murder and deceit. But it still bothers me after all this time."

Mary poured him another cup of tea.

"It bothers you because you haven't let it go, Biggles. You've held onto it for what – over twenty years? It's been there, like a knot in your stomach, gnawing away, colouring every move, every decision. Yes, what you did was hot-headed and stupid. In wartime anyone can be capable of murder. Every time I look at the ruined men we try and piece back together I want to take a shotgun to Hitler. We can't control who we love any more than who we hate; just what we do with it. But maybe the circumstances were beyond her control and she was just doing her job – as Daddy tells me you have done."

Biggles eyes blazed. "I've never used another person without their knowledge or sent them to do something I wouldn't do myself!" he exclaimed.

"And that's the difference isn't it? You don't plan to fall in love. It's something that just happens," she added.

"Maybe," sighed Biggles.

Both Biggles and Mary drank their now cold tea. Biggles grimaced.

"Miss, could we have some more hot water please?"

"Certainly, sir." the waitress smiled as she brought their water.

Biggles poured some hot water into their cups

"That's better," Mary smiled at Biggles.

She was pleased he looked a little less careworn than he had an hour ago.

* * *

When the bill arrived each had insisted on paying for the tea, saying it was their treat. After settling the bill between them they walked outside. The earlier cloud was beginning to produce its promised rain.

"This will never do. You'll get your feet wet and I need to see you home safely before I meet up with Algy and Bertie at Victoria station. We need a taxi. Biggles hailed one as it went past.

"So what brought you to London, Mary?" Biggles asked when they were settled in the taxi and Mary had given the driver her address.

"I needed to do something useful for the war effort."

"But not sewing?" quizzed Biggles.

"No definitely not! You know my love of sewing", she laughed. "That was one of the few Guide badges I couldn't win. I trade with the girls at the hostel. I fix things or give them finger waves if they do my sewing for me. It's kept me in clothes so far."

She continued. "Daddy said it was wicked to take paid jobs away from girls who need them while I had an allowance so I joined the WVS. I do anything that needs to be done, sometimes I work with the IIP, but most of my efforts are in a hospital garden with other volunteers. The grounds have been turned over to vegetables and sometimes the convalescent servicemen help out with things. We try and have things so that almost everyone, no matter what their injury is, can do something. Tell Algy we had a few sunflowers where we couldn't grow vegetables in summer!"

Biggles laughed as the taxi drew up outside the Girls' Friendly Society, an imposing barracks of a building where many women engaged in war work were living.

"Wait please driver."

Biggles and Mary got out.

"I hope it's comfortable here?"

"Oh yes. Much better than the digs we stayed in before. I share a room on the third floor with my school friend Agatha. She's a nurse at the hospital. I'm lucky to have her and we can share the costs."

Mary laid her hand on Biggles's arm.

"Biggles, I wouldn't worry too much about Ginger. You knew we have been writing to each other as friends? Ginger has got his head screwed on properly and is unlikely to go too far overboard. And he's got you and Algy to guide him. If she truly loves him he won't come to any harm." Mary blushed slightly.

Biggles looked searchingly at Mary for a moment. Had she felt something for Ginger? "If he loves her he'll never hurt her. Any man who loves a woman as she should be loved would do the same," replied Biggles quietly. "I must go. Goodbye 'Miss Mary'."

"Goodbye 'Captain James'."

Mary watched the taxi until it turned the corner. She rubbed a tired hand across her face and swore softly, much to the shock of the elderly lady walking past. She vowed if she ever caught up with that woman she'd know about it!

Biggles sank back into the cushions of the taxi and sighed.

"Is that your sweetheart?" asked the driver

"No, just a very wise friend."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere near Victoria Station where I can get a drink."

"Any place in particular?"

"I don't care. I need a drink."

* * *

Algy and Bertie were waiting when Biggles finally joined them. He smelled slightly of whisky and looked very tired. On the journey down they found him distracted and unwilling to talk.

Algy had given Bertie the barest outline while they had waited. Both put his distraction down to the memories that Algy's thoughtless comment had raised earlier.

Truthfully Biggles was exhausted. He knew once he got back to station the MO would give him a thorough going over and would be likely to ground him for a day or two.

He was eager to get back to his comrades: the men who were tied to him by such bonds of friendship as only war can create. Algy and Ginger were the only real family he had left and it looked as if he might be losing one of them soon. But as the train travelled rapidly back towards the aerodrome his thoughts kept straying to a pair of brown eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dear Mary,

I apologise for my rudeness the other day over tea. I was rather worked up about things and I feel I may have taken it out on you.

When I returned to the aerodrome the MO took me off duties for a couple of days.

I had plenty of time to think about our conversation.

How did one so young get to be so wise and understanding 'Miss Mary'?

Thank you.

How are things with you? Are your vegetables surviving the weather?

I hope to come to town sometime in the next month. Would you be free for tea or lunch, to catch up?

Yours,

Biggles"

* * *

1234567 Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth

Squadron 666

APO England

"Dear 'Captain James',

I'm pleased if I was able to help you in a small way. You've helped my brother and me on many occasions. We've known each other for many years, haven't we?

'Wise'? I've never been called that before. I'm sure Daddy wouldn't agree with you.

I would be delighted to take you up on your offer, but I may only have time to snatch a quick cuppa in our canteen. My work is changing!

I have been asked to work more with our recuperating wounded, to work with them on things that may help them to lead something of a normal life. The doctors have found that a number of them respond to working in the garden. They call it 'occupational therapy'.

The nights are the hardest to bear for many of these poor men. I think I have learned more on my first night duty than I have in my previous two years in the hospital! Sometimes all I can do is hold their hand or give them a glass of water and listen to them talk.

Agatha reminds me that things do get better!

Looking forward to meeting up with you if I can. Let me know closer to the time.

Mary"

* * *

"Dear Mary

I'm booked for leave Friday night. My train is due to arrive at Victoria at 9am Saturday. I have to be back by the 5pm train Sunday. It's Algy's birthday this week and I need to buy him a present. Hoping you can help me.

Please let me know by return if you are free during this time.

Biggles"

* * *

"Biggles,

Meet you at the station.

MR"


	4. Chapter 4

The train journey to London was uneventful. Hundreds of Army and Air Force personnel in khaki and blue filled the early train, all eager to make the most of their leave. Biggles, wearing his service dress and greatcoat, looked out of the window, the smoke from his cigarette curling gently upwards. It was Algy's birthday on Tuesday, and Ginger had commissioned him to buy something on his behalf as soon as he knew he was going to London.

As the train pulled in, a tidal wave of humanity intent on seeing their loved ones again surged towards the train.

Biggles saw Mary was waiting on the platform, standing well back from the tide. Even from where he was seated he could see she looked tired and dishevelled.

He waited for the crowd to clear slightly, picked up his haversack, and then pushed his way through the entwined couples towards her.

"Did you ever see such a sight?" he exclaimed disgustedly.

"Frequently," chuckled Mary. "So long as they don't do it in the street and scare the horses!" She said in a posh accent and pretended to peer through an imaginary monocle.

It was Biggles turn to laugh. "You sound so much like one of my squadron."

"Oh dear, I didn't mean to be rude."

"You weren't. It was funny. And Bertie would appreciate the joke I think. The only time I've ever seen that man ruffled is when he lost his monocle. He'd be the first to describe himself as 'a silly ass'. He's an eccentric – although your father describes him as 'mad as a hatter'. But there's more to him than most people give him credit for. You look tired, old girl," Biggles surveyed her keenly.

"Oh I am! I drew unexpected late duty last night and it was an unsettled night. So many just wanted to talk and be reassured they were going to be all right, that their best girl would continue to love them despite their scars." Her breath caught on a slight sob.

Biggles put his hand on her shoulder. "Steady now."

Mary took a deep breath. "Thanks, but the good news is that I don't have to be back there until Monday morning and I'm determined to help choose Algy's birthday present and forget about this war. What would you like to do first?"

"I need to drop my kit off at home first. Then what about a cup of tea?"

"Cracking idea." 

They walked in silence for a short while.

"What did you think of getting for Algy?"

"I'm not sure. We never know if we're likely to be posted quickly so I think something small might be in order."

"That sounds practical. I might send him an order for sunflower seeds."

"Mary, how am I going to explain to Algy why he has a birthday present from you?"

"Simple – you met me by chance while you were choosing yours and I insisted on adding something from an old friend."

They walked past barricades surrounding the ruins of a once-proud house before rounding the corner into Mount Street.

They turned up a set of stairs about halfway down and Biggles rang the doorbell.

"Oh sir it's delightful to see you! Welcome home!"

"Thank you, Mrs Symes. It's good to be home. May I introduce Miss Mary Raymond? Do you remember her father Colonel Raymond? I met her at the station and she's agreed to help me choose a present for Algy."

"Oh yes, Mr. Lacey's birthday. Miss Raymond, I certainly do remember your father. Would you both like a cup of tea? The kettle's just boiling."

"That would be lovely."

"You'll find Mrs Symes always has the kettle 'just boiling'," said Biggles with a smile as she bustled out of the room.

* * *

In the kitchen Mrs Symes rubbed fat and flour together for scones and considered. She resolved to learn more about Mary Raymond before she was very much older.

* * *

Over tea and scones with Mrs Symes, they discussed what to buy for Algy's birthday. Mrs Symes, with a blush, said she felt that Mr Lacey might need new underthings, Biggles plumped for a new cigarette lighter, and Mary suggested a new 'housewife'. Biggles reminded her they had been issued with a basic one as part of their RAF issue, but thought Algy would appreciate a better-quality one.

From their relaxed attitude and 'do you remembers' it was obvious they were old friends. But her employer had never had much time for women. There was nothing lover-like in their behaviour. In fact Mr Bigglesworth treated Miss Raymond very much like he treated Master Ginger when he'd first brought him home. She wondered where this would lead as she took the plates back to the kitchen.

"Will you be in for lunch, sir?"

* * *

They wandered through Hyde Park, a pleasant enough place during daytime, although to be avoided at night. Nearby, Kensington Gardens' lawns had been replaced by rows of vegetables.

Mary and Biggles decided to try Harrods first. Biggles was worried about the prices. Mary pointed out that nobody had any money these days, so something small from there would be special.

Biggles chose underwear, sacrificing four of his own coupons, remarking that 'sometimes Algy flies by the seat of his pants'. On behalf of Ginger they chose a 'housewife' and Mary insisted on adding an embroidered handkerchief out of her own coupons.

As their purchases were being wrapped, Biggles asked Mary, "what would you like to do later?"

"I hadn't really thought, Biggles."

"Dinner and dancing? The flicks? West End show? Trapshooting? My treat

"Well, not dancing. I can't see you being comfortable with girls fighting over you. The music is good though," she added.

Biggles looked horrified. "By Jove, I should think not! Not my scene at all."

"I haven't done any targets or clay pigeons since I was last at home. Curfew is at 10pm so whatever we decide on I need to be back before then."

"Then what about an afternoon show at the flicks, then dinner? Did you see there's a new 'Laurel and Hardy film' showing at the Plaza?"

"Lovely!"

They took their purchases back to Mount Street where Mrs Symes was waiting with a simple lunch of vegetable soup and toast.


	5. Chapter 5

Mary and Biggles sat in the darkened cinema. Mary was enthralled by The British North Africa campaign newsreel featuring a new weapon attached to the Hurricane 'known to the RAF as the Tin-opener, and rightly so' ("is it really like that?" she whispered to Biggles. "Not entirely," he replied. "Spits are better.") Soon Biggles was laughing at the ridiculous antics in the cartoon 'War Dogs'.

The nearly full theatre rang with laughter during the main feature.

Both Mary and Biggles were weeping with laughter at Stan and Ollie. Occasionally during a lull in the action they'd glance at each other and start laughing again.

"Oh dear," gasped Mary when the feature was over. "I'm so glad we don't have air raid wardens like that!"

It was dark when they left the theatre chuckling and mopping their eyes.

"Now..." Biggles held up his hand for silence, listening intently. In the distance was the wail of an air raid siren. "I don't think you will make it back to your digs in time for curfew."

* * *

The sound of the bombers could clearly be heard above the noise of the anti-aircraft guns in the underground shelter.

"Junkers," thought Biggles grimly, finding a place to sit.

Women were passing tea and sandwiches around; there were only a few children; some were playing; some were crying; some were clutching at battered toys. Underlying the smell of human habitation was the smell of fear.

Mary brought Biggles a cup of tea and a sandwich and sat down beside him.

"Dinner?"

"Thanks."

They sat in silence for a while, listening. Snatches of song could be heard; particularly noticeable was one about something Hitler was missing.

"I should be up there. Topsides. Stopping them."

"Where do you think they were going?"

"Reading? Cardiff?" A whistle followed by a distant crash

"East End?" asked Mary.

"Sounds like it."

Biggles sighed, lighting a cigarette. "Back on the station we'd be harassing these Huns. I hate sitting around waiting."

"I wish I'd brought my knitting. Maybe I can scrounge a couple of newspapers?"

"Good scheme."

Mary found a couple of newspapers and Biggles read for a while.

"Winston Churchill has just celebrated his birthday. It's hard to believe he's 69 isn't it Mary? Mary...?"

Biggles looked down Mary was asleep. He took off his greatcoat and placed it gently over her.


	6. Chapter 6

"It was awful. Those poor people," said Biggles, recounting some of the story to Algy and Ginger later. "At least out here we can do something about it. It was the inaction that got me. The Huns bombing the daylights out of everything, and me, sitting nice and safe in the underground."

"How did you manage to be in the underground? I thought we fitted up the cellar in Mount Street for Mrs Symes," asked Ginger.

"I was coming home when the air-raid struck."

"Unusually late for you to be out."

"I decided to go to the flicks. Any objection?" snapped Biggles, goaded to the end of his patience.

"No, certainly not!" Ginger threw up his hands in mock surrender. "I think I'll go and see how Annie's doing."

Algy eyed Biggles doubtfully.

"By the way, happy birthday old chap." Biggles tossed his present to Algy. "There's one here from Mary Raymond as well."

"Mary? I would have thought she'd be in the country. When did you catch up with her?"

"I saw her in Harrods and she insisted on adding something to your gifts."

"What is she doing in London? I would have thought it was the last place Mrs Raymond would want her little girl to be in."

"She didn't get much of a say, I believe. Mary's a WVS at a hospital and doing the 'dig for victory' stuff in their garden. She told me to tell you they had sunflowers last summer."

"Mary's a good egg. I couldn't imagine her staying home and doing nothing. It must be, what – four years since we saw her. Has she changed much?"

"A little taller and her hair is different, but not much more. Do you remember when she and Ginger got stuck up that tree?"

"Do I ever! And how close you both came to beating Ginger and me at tennis," grinned Algy.

Both were lost in thought for a few minutes.

"Have you got Mary's address? I'd like to write and thank her for her present. After all, a monogrammed handkerchief is nothing to sneeze at!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Dear Biggles,

Judging by the number of air raids this week, I guess you and the boys must be very busy chasing Jerry through the skies. I think of you, Algy and Ginger, and pray every time the planes cross London that you all come safely through.

Our winter cabbage is doing well. We have plenty of onions laid down for the winter and the leeks and parsnips are almost ready to harvest.

The men have decided to get up a pantomime for Christmas. It will be interesting to see how they manage.

We have had some snow here, just enough to make it mucky. If only it would settle for a while!

Yours,

Mary"

* * *

"Dear Mary,

Thank you for the birthday present. I'll carry the handkerchief in my pocket when I fly for good luck. Biggles handed over his present with some rude remarks about the state of my underwear. You can just imagine him!

Biggles told me you were working in the garden at the hospital and 'digging for victory'. The boys here planted enough onions to fulfil the needs for the whole of Kent for the next year! We were right in the middle of harvesting them a few months ago when Jerry beetled over and laid an egg. Cook had a recipe for French onion soup and we ate it day in and day out. We took to wearing gasmasks, as the reek of onions was terrible in the Mess.

Hoping you are keeping well. Ginger says hello.

Regards,

Algy."

* * *

"Dear Mary,

We have had a couple of scares the last week. Jerry has attempted to muscle in while we've been out and thrown a few cookies around. Same thing happened a few months back - one landed in our onion patch – fortunately after most of the onions had been removed. Algy complained about the stink of shredded onions for days.

Neither my greatcoat nor I have recovered from the night in the underground. How do you people in London manage to cope with it?

I can see I'll have to come up and hope my tailor can clean it!

Ginger's making noises about coming up on his next leave day to see Jeanette, or trying to get her to come down and see him. Somehow I can't see Madame D. allowing her to travel by herself. She's too young.

Must go, Algy's ordered some tea.

Yours,

Biggles"

* * *

"Dear Biggles,

I had a lovely letter from Algy thanking me for his birthday present and telling me how much he loves onions.

Agatha took me dancing last Saturday afternoon. I still can't get the hang of this 'jitterbug'. I'm not even sure it's decent with all the girls being tossed into the air and their underwear showing! Fortunately with so few men around nobody minds if we dance together. Most of the men there were Americans. They're a little bit too forward for my taste.

It would be lovely to have a white Christmas. I'm about sick of all this snow that melts.

Must go. I hope you all have a safe and lovely Christmas, with blue skies and nothing from Jerry in your Christmas stocking.

Love,

Mary"

* * *

"Dear Mary,

Hope you had a lovely Christmas. We managed to get a chicken for Christmas dinner. It went well with the never-ending French onion soup. Algy's still complaining!

It had been rather quiet here over Christmas. We've been doing our routine combat patrol over the Channel with no joy.. Finally last Friday we got the gen the Huns were planning something big. All leave was cancelled, which really annoyed Ginger as he had hopes for a weekend leave pass.

We went up three times – had time for a cuppa in between. What a dogfight!

You never saw such a sight! Our Spits accounted for at least 10 of the 40 shot down. Poor old Algy had his engine shot up, but he bailed out safely.

I heard the few who got through hit Whitehall.

Hope you are keeping well. The weather has been awfully windy. Makes flying fun!

Yours,

Biggles"

* * *

(Early Feb)

"Mary,

Just a quick note – we've been posted! Sorry, old girl, can't tell you where. We have to come to town to be measured for our new kit. I'll be in town on Tuesday.

Care to practice some trap shooting? You know how they encourage us serving officers to keep our hand in. I'm afraid I can't get out my old Bentley for a run because of the petrol rationing, but I'll be at Victoria at 1pm if you are free.

Letters won't get through where we are going, but I'll write to you when I can.

Biggles"


	8. Chapter 8

"Dear Mary, (early May)

Back home safely. I've never worked with such a group of people before. Their leader stood over six feet tall and had huge tusk through his ear. My goodness he was strong! For them headhunting was a game such as football would be to us. They were capable of taking out the enemy with their-blowpipes – and they did!

Algy and Ginger had a bit of bad luck and got picked up by the enemy. We dropped some tools and weapons to them and laid a few eggs on the enemy's fuel dump to give them something to think about while they got out. We certainly gave them something to remember us by. We ended up picking up all the prisoners and sending them on to a friendly country. A good time was had by all resulting in Squadron 1, enemy 0, although at one point we must have been the only squadron that had no aircraft!

We have been given a short spell of leave as a reward for a 'job well done'.

I hope I can come up to London. My tropical tunic needs a good clean before I can store it away. Otherwise I may have to take it out and shoot it.

Yours,

Biggles"

* * *

"Dearest Biggles,

I'm glad Algy and Ginger got out safely. I hope they weren't hurt in any way. I know how close you all are. I thought of you all frequently and hoped you'd come safely through your skirmishes. I'm sure there's a lot more to this story than you will ever be able to tell me.

I was worried when I hadn't heard from you for so long, but I reasoned these kinds of postings would mean it was unlikely you would be in a position to write anyway.

Agatha and I went to see a re-run of "Gone With the Wind'. Lord, what an epic. We had a good cry during the second half. You would have been embarrassed to be seen with us. We had fish and chips on the way home.

The weather here has been quite dry, although we had a heavy snowstorm towards the end of February. You were lucky to miss it.

Hope to see you soon.

Yours,

Mary"


	9. Chapter 9

Biggles caught the train up to London. Half the squadron had already taken their precious leave. Ginger and Algy had been in the first lot, and had made Mount Street their headquarters. Ginger had gone out early in the morning and returned later in the evening, having spent most of the time with Jeanette. Algy had found time to attend a classical concert or two. Both had found time for a look-in at the Aero Club.

Biggles, Ferocity and Henry had caught the train up to London together, with Henry continuing home to his parents and younger siblings. Ferocity announced his intention of 'having some fun'.

Biggles, having dropped off his kit and changed into a spare uniform, handed his old one to the tailor for refurbishment. The tailor promised to try and do something with his greatcoat and to have it and his refurbished uniform ready later that day. The new uniform would have to be sent on or kept until he called next time.

Biggles found Mary watching the pigeons in Trafalgar Square. He walked quietly up and sat down beside her.

"Is this seat taken?"

Mary started. "Biggles! You gave me such a fright! Welcome home."

"It's good to be home," he said. "You know, when I come here I can almost forget there's a war on. So long as there are pigeons in Trafalgar Square, all is well in the world."

"Been bad?"

"Yes. I had a dose of malaria on top of that."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't think you quite looked yourself."

They sat and watched the birds strutting round like clockwork creatures, their heads bobbing. Biggles lit a cigarette.

"I always marvel they are still here. There's hardly any meat around and if one could be caught it would make a small meal." Mary said.

"Algy and I have eaten some pretty strange food in desperation. In the '30s we were prospecting on behalf of the Oil Investment Company of British Guiana. The boat was late and we ran out of supplies. Our old flight-sergeant, Smyth, had to shoot lizards and alligators."

"What did they taste like?"

"Awful – fishy rubber. Another time in the Arctic Circle we ate polar bear. Give me a good filet mignon any time!"

"Sounds dire. We'll we're not likely to get any of that in England at the moment."

"No. Especially the steak," Mary and Biggles laughed. Their eyes met and the laughter subsided. Biggles raised the back of his right hand slowly towards Mary's cheek. It hovered uncertainly for a moment, before dropping back down as Biggles stood up abruptly.

"All this talk about food is making me hungry. Come on lass, let's go find some lunch."

"Sounds good. I'm a bit peckish myself."

* * *

Walking away from the lunchtime crowd, Biggles and Mary headed back to his tailor.

Biggles picked up his refurbished uniform and put on his coat "Much better. I'll drop this off and we'll go somewhere. Do you fancy the flicks or theatre?"

"Flicks are easier. If you're even a minute late at the theatre you get such disapproving looks!"

The traffic was crowded and moving slowly as they made their way towards Mount Street.

Suddenly there was the sound of shouts and screams followed by a policeman's whistle. A man appeared, dodging people as he ran. Biggles made to grab him, but he deftly avoided him. Instead he ran headlong into Mary, knocking her backwards off the footpath and towards the road. A car stopped suddenly. Mary struck her head on its door. She lay still.

"Oh God – Mary!" Biggles dragged her from the road and laid her gently beside a nearby wall. His face was almost as pale as hers. A small trickle of blood accentuated the paleness and a swollen ankle told its own tale.

"Oh the poor young lady!"

"Is she dead?"

"No. She's alive. Could somebody call a doctor?" Biggles asked.

A boy brought over their scattered belongings. "Here sir."

A lady handed him a handkerchief.

"Thanks." Biggles took the handkerchief and placed the parcel that was his tunic very gently under Mary's head. He wiped Mary's face tenderly and was relieved to see it was only a scratch.

He spent an anxious ten minutes waiting for the doctor.

He was relieved when Mary began to stir "Shhh. It's ok old girl."

"Oh my head hurts!"

"I'm sure it does. Colliding with a car door has a tendency do that

"Did he get away?"

"Yes. Lie still and don't talk. A doctor's been – ah, here he is now."

The doctor took a quick look at her.

"I'm Doctor Johnstone. Well, young lady, there's probably nothing else much wrong with you barring a sprained ankle and a bump on the head. Let's get you somewhere a little more private where I can examine you properly. You'll probably have the kind of headache that makes strong men swear off alcohol for a few days and your vision might be a bit swimmy. But you'll be as right as rain in a week or so. But the important thing now is get you home and rest. Absolute quiet and no stairs for a few days. Can that be managed?"

"Not really. I..."

"Of course it can. Mrs Symes will look after you. No, don't argue. I've made up my mind. Sit quietly."

"But..."

"My car's here. Where shall I take you?"

"That's awfully kind of you, Doctor. Mount Street please."

"But..."

"Ok then, let's get her into the car. Mind her ankle."

Biggles bent down. "Come on lassie. I'll help you to the car. No arguments."

"But..."

"If I had a member of my squadron argue as much as you do I'd put them under close arrest. You'll do as you're told," he said curtly.

* * *

"Oh my goodness, sir! What's happened?" Mrs Symes exclaimed as she opened the door to the Mount Street flat.

"Miss Raymond has had an accident and needs complete rest. Do you mind looking after her for a few days? She won't get rest where she is staying and she won't be able to climb stairs."

"I'll go and prepare Mr Lacey's bed. Tell you the truth sir, I'd be glad of the company."

"Would you mind making a cup of tea for Mary after that? She's had a nasty shock."

"Of course."

"I'm sorry to be such a nuisance, Biggles."

"Mary, dear, you could never be a nuisance even if you tried."

Together Biggles and the doctor helped Mary into Algy's room. The doctor gave her a detailed examination while Biggles waited outside. "I'll just bind that ankle up and you'll do. You should be up and about by the end of the week."

"But what about my work?"

"What do you do?" Mary told the doctor and he thought for a moment.

"Well, no gardening for at least a week. And even after that you'll have to keep off that ankle as much as possible. You might be able to hobble around the wards and do something constructive there. I'll write you a certificate so they don't think you've deserted and a list of things I forbid you to do. Anybody who needs to know where you are? I assume you're among friends here?"

"Oh yes. We're old friends."

Biggles opened the door for Mrs Symes, who carried a tea tray, caught the last question and Mary's answer. "Yes Doctor Johnstone. I've known Miss Raymond since she was a child. We'll let anyone know who needs to know where she is. Tea?"

"Good. No thank you, I won't stay to tea. Well, young lady, if anything changes give me a call."


	10. Chapter 10

Biggles had always been a light sleeper. In fact, Ginger had assured his fellow pilots that he was sure Biggles slept with one ear and eye open! Something which Ginger's fellow room-mates discovered to their cost.

Not long after midnight Bggles woke suddenly. He lay quietly for a minute or so, wondering what had woken him. He heard a sound and quickly got up to investigate.

Walking down the corridor, Biggles stood outside the door of Algy's room. He heard the sound again. A crack of light was visible from under the door. Opening the door gently, Biggles saw Mary wearing one of Mrs Symes old nightgowns that was three sizes too big. She was crying quietly.

"What's up old girl?" He walked over to the bed and sat down.

"N-nothing. I'm sorry to wake you."

"Bad dreams?"

"Yes. I'm just being stupid."

"I would have said you had the constitution of an ox if you hadn't had a nightmare after what happened today," he commented. "I've been a bit unsettled myself sometimes and I've had my fair share of unpleasant dreams over the years."

"But none tonight?" Mary shifted around to face Biggles. "Ouch."

"Not this time." Biggles helped Mary gently until she was in more of a sitting position. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Just this stupid picture of a car coming straight for me covered in swastikas. Hitler was in the driver's seat and Churchill was standing on the roof. He was wearing lederhosen and holding reins and trying to take control of the steering from Hitler. It was so real!"

Biggles snorted and tried to change it into a cough and failed dismally.

Mary poked him. "It wasn't funny."

"It is rather, you know. Churchill wearing lederhosen. Are you cold? You're shivering."

"I am a bit."

"Well how about putting Algy's dressing gown on? He won't mind and I won't tell him," he said, walking over and picking it off the back of the door. "Here, I'll help you into it." Biggles bent down and slipped the gown over Mary's shoulders. His hand brushed the back of her neck, touching the soft brown hair that had escaped from its confining plait. She shivered more at his touch. He sat back down on the bed beside her. "Better?"

"Thank you."

They sat quietly for a few minutes.

"Feel you can go back to sleep?"

"I think so."

"Do you want me to leave the light on?"

"No, I'll be all right without it."

"Good night then, old girl." Biggles stood up, and placed his hand on her shoulder before switching off the light and leaving the room, leaving a comforted Mary behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

"Dear Biggles,

Well, I've been home for just over a week and able to manage the stairs. I can do most things in the garden, just not the heavy digging.

Thank you for your hospitality. Mrs Symes looked after me like I was her own daughter. We've become quite good friends.

I popped in to see her during the week as there were reports that a bomb struck close to Mount Street. She is fine, just a little bit shaken that her grocer was killed. That's the closest one has come to home. I don't know how people cope with the underground during the air raids. I'm so lucky that the cellar at the hospital is well prepared and at least only smells of antiseptic. Mrs Symes – I'm to call her Elizabeth by the way – showed me the one you had had built. It smells of lavender.

The heavy frost has been awful. We have been walking around each morning surveying the damage and putting down straw and covers at night to protect the little plants. And after such a mild March! Our lettuce has been started in the cold frame and fortunately escaped the frost.

The wind was terrible a few weeks ago; I heard all planes were grounded in East Anglia. Did you get grounded too?

We have been trying to teach some of the men to knit socks. They find it a little difficult, but one or two have produced wearable results!

Must get back to work now the sun is out.

Love,

Mary"


	12. Chapter 12

Biggles and Algy were filling out combat reports when Ginger and Henry came into the Squadron office waving a local newspaper.

"Biggles," said Ginger, "we're here as a deputation. The Squadronaires are booked for a show in the village hall at Leigh next month. The lads would like to go."

Algy looked up. "Why all this sudden interest in dancing, Ginger?"

"Cavorting to melodies is extremely beneficial employment, sir." Henry answered.

"The music is good too," added Ginger. "And these boys are the number one dance band for the RAF. It would be a break from the monotony of convoy patrol and day to day routine."

Biggles put out his hand for the newspaper. "And so it would. If it's outside your normal duty hours you don't need my permission. You won't have much time. Sunset is so late these days, but ask Toddy for a late pass if you need it. Just make sure you are capable of performing your duties in the morning"

Ginger and Henry left the office.

"What do you think, Algy? Ginger's right. The past few weeks have been extremely dull. Some of the boys are so wound up they'll start fighting each other instead of the Germans soon and I'd almost welcome a call from Air Commodore Raymond . Ginger wants it as an excuse to ask Jeanette down. I don't think Madame D. would let her come alone though."

"Well, depending on what else is likely to happen, I can't see any harm in a bit of relaxation. What day is it?" Algy held out his hand for the paper. "Saturday. They don't drink much usually and don't go looking for trouble. Maybe you can get some gen from Air House?"

"I can just see that: 'Excuse me, Air Commodore Raymond, we want to know what the Huns are planning so my boys can leave early and go dancing'. I think he'd take a dim view of that," he said sarcastically.

"Too true. Is there any reason why they shouldn't go? Maybe give them a gentle reminder that individual behaviour reflects on the squadron and the RAF as a whole?" Algy remembered a previous night out where trouble had found members of another squadron and 666 had come in for the backlash..

"Good scheme. What are we going to do with Ginger if Jeanette isn't allowed to come down?"

Algy thought for a moment. "Mary Raymond", he replied.

"Mary?" Biggles looked up in surprise. "How do you mean?"

"She might chaperone Jeanette."

Biggles smiled. "Now that's a role I can't see Mary cut out for."

"No more than I can see you in a nanny role, old chap, but it's been done before. I'm sure she'd be willing to help old friends. It can't hurt to ask. I might suggest it to Ginger."

"I might even suggest it myself."


	13. Chapter 13

"Dearest Mary,

Ginger will be writing to you to ask you a favour. There's a dance here near the squadron and he wants to invite Jeanette. Trouble is her mother is unlikely to let her come down unless she has a chaperone. I can just hear you say "chaperone? What me?"

Please don't knock the boy back. It gives you a good excuse to come down. And I'd really like to see you as well. Leave is a bit restricted at the moment as we are covering for other squadrons. Weekend passes are rare as hen's teeth, so there's no chance of me getting to London anytime soon. I believe women are fond of dancing, so I'll even dance with you if you like!

This set of snake-charmers is known as 'the Squadronaires' and they are said to be very good. Maybe you have heard them on the wireless? Algy was delighted. You remember how much he likes good music.

The boys have all been practising their dancing in the Mess and hopefully we won't put on too bad a show. Bertie has been teaching some of the finer points of waltzing and has managed to get the boys doing 'The Lambeth Walk'. Wilks told me 701 have been practicing the jitterbug of all things! For myself, I think I shall stick with the good old foxtrot.

Hoping you can persuade Madame D. Otherwise please just come down.

Yours,

Biggles"

* * *

"Dear Mary

Sorry for not writing much recently. I hope you don't mind me asking a big favour. There's a dance near where we are stationed and I've asked my best girl to come along. The trouble is her mother feels she needs a chaperone and I was wondering if I could ask you to do the job. Her name is Jeanette and she is from Monaco.

She also needs a good friend. And that I know you are.

Please don't say no.

Ginger"

* * *

"….Ginger Hebblethwaite, you want me to aid and abet you in corrupting a lovely young girl?

I would never have thought it of you!

Oh, yes, I have met your Jeanette and she's lovely! I think Mrs D. thought you were out to seduce her daughter. Asking her to stay overnight indeed! You really have shocked her, you know.

Luckily for you I was able to straighten that out and reassure her that not only would she and I be in an inn or a hotel, but you would be back at base. I promised I wouldn't let her out of my sight and Biggles would shoot you at dawn if you so much as even thought anything inappropriate.

She also wanted me to ask Biggles to keep an eye on you. I tried to tell her it wasn't necessary as the entire squadron wouldn't let you get away with anything!

Lord, I'd like to see Biggles' face when he finds he has to play gooseberry!

Jeanette has promised to be a good girl and be back in our hotel by 10.30pm. I'm sorry if it cuts into your plans, but it was necessary to agree to her restrictions or Jeanette couldn't go at all.

Believe me, I had a difficult time. I had to trot out all my beastly ancestors. Being the daughter of an Air Commodore and having a long history of Anglo-Indian Colonels in the family still accounts for something!

I know Jeanette is looking forward to seeing you. Hopefully all will be quiet and this leave won't be cancelled.

Yours sincerely,

Mary Raymond"

* * *

"Dearest Biggles,

Never again ask me to be a chaperone! I hope Ginger knows how lucky he is. If it wasn't for you asking me to help I would have given up after the first two minutes!

Mrs D acted like Ginger was trying to ravish her daughter! Yes, I know that is an old-fashioned word, but that was the way she was. Dressed in her widow's weeds and looking like something out of a Jane Austin novel. And all over a small misunderstanding!

I had to promise her all sorts of things. If anything happens to Jeanette, you will need to have Ginger up in front of a firing squad at dawn I'm afraid!

If you or I let Jeanette out of our sights, I wouldn't be surprised if she fed us to the tigers at London Zoo. And she'll know, believe me!

But I do have to feel sorry for both of them both. Both are missing Henri and home very much, having been uprooted and pitchforked into a strange place. And there are young men all over the place behaving in a much more free way than she is used to. Mrs D has found it difficult to make friends and clings on to Jeanette, making it difficult for her to make friends as well.

All being well I may be able to arrange for some French refugees to call on Madame and try to find some basis for friendship. Refugees in a foreign land and that kind of thing.

Probably your squadron's dancing is better than mine. We learned folk dancing at school and guides. I'm not particularly fond of dancing; being tall I usually had to dance as the man. But I do know how to waltz. Sort of. And I promise to try and not trip you up.

Looking forward to seeing you.

Love,

Mary"

* * *

Biggles found Ginger near the flight sheds, giving his aircraft a final once-over

"Ginger, I've had a letter from Mary Raymond."

"So have I. She managed to persuade Madame to let Jeanette come down to the dance. She's given me all sorts of dreadful warnings too and threatens to have me shot at dawn if anything happens," said Ginger with a laugh.

"It wasn't an easy task, I believe. But you need to take this seriously, Ginger. If Jeanette is not returned to her mother exactly as she left her there will be trouble. Not only for you, but for Mary Raymond and myself. Do you understand?"

Ginger looked directly at Biggles. "Biggles," he said quietly, "I'm over 21. I'm not a child anymore."

Biggles held his gaze. "I know. But Jeanette is and you're still an officer under my command. And if you do anything that breaks the trust Mary Raymond has placed in you, you will be cleaning the latrines with your toothbrush. Understood?"

"Understood... sir."


	14. Chapter 14

The Squadronaires had arrived! Squadron 666 had polished their shoes and had on their best uniforms. Ginger had gone off in the first tender and was waiting patiently, lemon squash in hand, for Jeanette and Mary to arrive. He was soon joined by Bertie Lissie, Tug Carrington, and Angus Mackail at one of the many tables in the large hall.

"I hope I can remember what you've taught us, Bertie," said Tug.

"I should jolly well hope so, old boy. The honour of the squadron and all that."

"Well, if I do, I'll fall back on a 'Highland Fling.'"

Ginger stood up. Coming through the door were two women, one tall and the other built on the petite side. Her jet black hair was parted in the middle and set in ringlets and she wore a pretty blue dress. The taller lady was dressed in a simple dull red dress and a matching hat.

"Will you excuse me,' said Ginger and moved towards the door.

'Ginger's target for tonight?" asked Tug.

'"Absolutely, old boy."

Tug eyed them speculatively.

"Oh leave him alone. He's a gentle and loving kid. Let him have a bit of innocent fun, old chap. God knows we could all do with some fun in this perishing war."

"Here they are," said Angus. "Coming Tug?" and with that they made their way to another group of girls dressed in WAAF uniform, leaving Bertie alone to ponder.

Ginger brought Mary and Jeanette back to the table.

"Bertie, I'm sure you remember Jeanette?"

"I do. How are you?"

"I'm well Milor' Bertie. And you?"

"Couldn't be better."

"And this is Mary Raymond, a friend of ours."

"Delighted," said Bertie.

"Could you look after Mary for a while, Bertie?"

"Dash it, you know I'm not much for skirt patrol, old boy," said Bertie dropping his monocle in his agitation.

"It won't be for long. Just until Biggles and Algy get here. Mary's an old friend and Biggles would like her to be looked after. I think you'll find you have some things in common," Ginger grinned.

"Very well. Run along. Miss Raymond, may I get you a drink?"

"I'd love a lemon squash."

Mary looked around the hall. It had been decorated with red, white and blue streamers. A small vase of flowers was on each of the tables, and one or two candles for light. Blackout blinds were on all the windows, all stamped with the words 'This blind must not be raised during blackout'. Someone had made an attempt to decorate them and there were postcards of flowers, scenery, and anything else they could get hold of.

Up at the top end, away from the door, was the stage. This was where the band had set up. The dance floor was crawling with men and women in uniforms of varying colours. Towards the back of the building a bar had been set up; next to it a large urn containing tea. There were many uniformed men propping up the bar and talking.

Bertie came back with the drinks and sat down.

"Biggles told me you've been teaching the men how to dance."

"By Jove, I have indeed. And so many of them were born with two left feet," Bertie shook his head sadly.

"They probably still dance better than I do," sighed Mary.

"And why is that?" Bertie turned in his seat and peered at her through his monocle. "I thought all girls could dance."

"We did folk dancing at school, nothing modern allowed, and being tall I had to dance as the man. I keep tripping over men when I dance these days. It's easier to dance with women. I keep trying to lead."

Bertie laughed. "That's rather funny. I danced as the woman many times at school when they tried to teach us, which is part of the reason I was given a certain nickname." His eyes glinted at the memory. "But not for long. Would you like to try and dance later? I'm quite comfortable if you lead."

"Maybe later. I believe you have a little dog?"

"Now who's been telling tales? I most certainly do. I've trained him to chase cats as there aren't any foxes down here. By the time this war is over there'll be no bally foxes left to chase anyway. I miss the hunting the most – you know, riding to hounds, the thrill of the chase and all that. Do you hunt, Miss Raymond?"

"No. I could never bear to kill things, but I used to do trap shooting. And I do miss riding."

"Riding!" Bertie warmed to his subject, and he and Mary were soon discussing the finer points of their respective horses.

Biggles and Algy handed their coats to the attendant and walked through the door.

The band was playing "That Old Black Magic" as Biggles scanned the room with the trained eyes of a fighter pilot, noting where most of his squadron were. He saw Ginger dancing and laughing with Jeanette, while Tug and Angus were seated in a dark corner with two of the local WAAF girls. Tug's girl was a hard-faced blonde woman that Biggles had seen around the aerodrome. Then he saw Mary sitting with Bertie. Bertie was obviously illustrating a point using his eyeglass. Mary was smiling.

"Over there," Biggles nodded in the direction of Bertie. "I think poor Bertie needs rescuing." Both men made their way to the table, with Biggles slightly in the lead. Algy glanced at Biggles and stopped in astonishment. He saw an expression on his face that he had never seen before. He noticed Mary's face light up when she saw Biggles.

Algy whistled silently to himself. "Well, well, well," he thought. "Sits the wind in that quarter then?"

"Hello Mary. Sorry we're late. Reports to finish." Biggles shook Mary's hand.

"Hello Biggles, Algy, it's lovely to see you both again."

"I see Bertie's been entertaining you."

"Yes. He knows a lot about hunting."

"Hunting! Did he tell you about the first time he reported for duty at the squadron?" hooted Algy.

"He mentioned his dog is trained to chase cats." Mary looked at Algy hopefully.

"When he first reported to the Squadron, we heard this terrible noise. Biggles opened the Squadron Office door to see what was happening and this cat came flying through the door, closely pursued by a small dog. It flew across the desk and out through the open window. Bertie followed them through the door wearing a yellow hunting waistcoat carrying this hunting horn. I thought Biggles was going to have a fit."

"I say old chap, surely it wasn't as bad as all that?"

"It certainly was. I thought I'd been given a squadron of lunatics."

"That's a bit steep, old boy – absolutely vertical in fact."

Mary's eyes sparkled. "But surely you must have some redeeming features?"

"He certainly does. He's a wizard with a Spit and a fantastic shot," declared Biggles.

Bertie flushed. "Steady on, old warrior. By the time you finish with me I'll need a bigger hat."

Biggles chuckled. "Well, I'll spare you this time. Perhaps Mary would like to dance?"

"I wouldn't do that, Miss Raymond. He's got the biggest left feet of the lot!" Bertie said ruthlessly.

"Well if I tread all over Mary, you can show her how it should be done." 

Biggles led her out onto the floor. "Bertie's right. I'm not much good at this," he apologised awkwardly.

"Neither am I. Let's just take a deep breath and relax, shall we?"

"So how are you Mary?"

"I'm fine. How about you? You look a bit tired."

"Nothing to write home about. I've missed talking to you."

"I've missed it too. Letters just aren't the same are they?"

"No."

"By the way, is it you I have to thank for this corsage of foliage?"

"Ginger. I told him if he was getting one for Jeanette he should get one for you as well to thank you for bringing his girl down."

"Jeanette is lovely. But I'm worried about her. She's such an innocent and her mother barely lets her out of her sight. She needs some friends of her own age. I think she's worried about the number of armed forces men running around the streets in London. And rightly so! One hears such stories. I don't think she would have been allowed to travel if I wasn't going with her. I also had to promise you'd play gooseberry, make sure she was tucked up safely in bed by 10.30pm and put anyone under arrest if they so much as looked the wrong way at Jeanette."

Biggles groaned. "What have you got me into Mary? I had to come over all C.O. and threaten to put Ginger on latrine duty if he didn't behave."

"No!" Mary laughed. "Is that why he's avoiding you?"

"I think he's forgiven me. Particularly as our M.O., Doc Lorton, gave a more detailed lecture to the boys about…um...the reputation of the squadron." Biggles flushed red.

"Biggles! The reputation...Oh! I see. When I first started at the hospital we had a lecture on how to avoid getting 'caught'. We had girls fainting all over the place. I think it was the first time many of them had heard this kind of thing. The dratted thing has been repeated ad nauseum." Mary rolled her eyes. "We now take bets on which of the new girls has hysterics first."

Biggles smiled. "Our fellows wanted to hide under the seat. Is that dress new? You look lovely tonight."

"Getting a little uncomfortable there? Thank you. I'll have you know I made this dress myself from an old parachute. Every last stitch. I had to dye it red to hide the bloodstains. But I can't claim credit for the hat."

The music ended and a round of applause followed. A short pause followed and the wailing sound of a single trumpet began "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy". There was a rush of airmen, both British and American with their partners for the floor. Mary and Biggles left it as people started dancing. "That looks like some of Wilks's boys now," said Biggles.

* * *

Algy, Biggles, Bertie and Mary were joined by Jeanette and Ginger. "Very energetic," pronounced Bertie, eyeing the wild antics on the dance floor.

"But not decent," added Jeanette, as a girl was thrown into the air and her underwear displayed.

"I suspect that's the whole point," remarked Algy.

* * *

"This one's ours I think Jeanette," said Ginger, taking her hand and leading her back onto the floor.

"They're all yours," Biggles remarked.

'D'you fancy trying out my two left feet, Miss Raymond?"

"Why certainly Lord Lissie. You promised to let me lead."

"Certainly, dear girl; let's show 'em how it's done. And call me Bertie."

Biggles and Algy were left alone at the table. Biggles took a mouthful of his drink.

"So how long have you been in love with her, old chap?" Algy asked suddenly.

Biggles, caught by surprise, choked on his beer. Algy thumped him on the back. "Here, have my handkerchief."

"Thanks," Biggles said as he mopped his streaming eyes.

"Well, that was a waste of good beer." Algy mopped up the mess.

"Beer, yes. Good, well, I wouldn't describe it as that."

"Well? How long?"

"I'm not sure if I can answer that, Algy," replied Biggles quietly. "I don't know if I am. Mary's a good egg and a good friend. I look forward to her letters and enjoy her company, but I don't think about her all the time. I'm not likely to walk into an airscrew like one of Bertie's friends, or do anything stupid. And I can still concentrate on the job at hand."

"Nobody who has ever had the privilege of working with you in the last twenty years could doubt it for a second. Don't you ever think of the future, Biggles?"

"The future's a long way away. We both know we could be shot down tomorrow."

"We'll have to get the Huns first then won't we?" Algy smiled.

"Yes," Biggles took a sip of what was left of his drink. "Besides, I'm too old for her," he added.

"I think you'll find that won't worry Mary."

"She deserves a man who has a whole heart."

"How many of us have a whole heart? And how many men will after the war is over?" Algy said gently.

"She should have someone young, not some battle-scarred old war horse who has seen and done too much." Biggles looked down at the floor.

"Is the old war-horse capable of loving her? That is all that matters."

Biggles was silent for a while, watching Mary and Bertie dancing. Mary was leading.

"Bertie's dancing well tonight, isn't he?" Algy nodded in the direction of the dance floor.

"Yes," said Biggles absently. "And I love the way her eyes smile."

"You're head over heels, Biggles," chuckled Algy.


	15. Chapter 15

"Well, well, well. And who are these gorgeous young things?" Squadron Leader Wilkinson stood beside the table holding a glass and looking down at Mary and Jeanette. Ginger's eyebrows knitted together and he bristled like a terrier. From the condition of his uniform it was obvious this wasn't Squadron Leader Wilkinson's first or even second drink of the evening.

"Go away Wilks. You're tight." Biggles glared at Wilks.

"Not me. I've only had a few."

Wilks sat down between Mary and Jeanette. Jeanette immediately moved her chair closer to Ginger.

Wilks looked at Jeanette consideringly and lit a cigarette. Nice looking girl, but lacked salt. It was clear that Ginger was besotted with her. He turned to appraise Mary. This one had a certain something. Wilks tossed back his whisky and called for another.

"Where've you been hiding?" Wilks leaned closer to Mary. "So how about a dance then?" His breath reeked of whisky. Mary leaned away. "No, thank you."

"I don't bite you know."

"I'm sure you don't, but I don't want to dance with you."

Biggles stood up. "Care for a stroll outside with me Wilks? I'd like a word."

"I was just getting comfortable."

"Now please," Biggles voice was icy. Wilks looked up into his face.

"Oh all right then," he grumbled and followed Biggles outside, slightly unsteady on his feet.

Mary and Jeanette breathed a sigh of relief.

"It must be Ginger's or my turn to dance with you, Mary. Do you think we could persuade Bertie to dance with Jeanette?"

"By Jove, most certainly not!"

"Didn't think so," said Algy with a grin. "Jeanette's all yours then, Ginger."

.

.

* * *

"Leave the ladies alone."

"Whaddya mean? I'm just being friendly."

"No, you're being obnoxious. If you weren't three sheets to the wind I'd tell you exactly what I think of your behaviour. You're acting as if Miss Raymond is a choice cut of steak."

"She's a bit of all right. She can bring her toothbrush out with me anytime." Wilks leered.

"She's Air Commodore Raymond's daughter, you fool. Do you think he'd be pleased to hear you talking like this? He'd be just as likely to have you posted to Siberia."

"His daughter? Well, well, well, what exalted company you keep these days. She's too good for the rest of us, eh?"

Biggles' eyes glinted angrily. "Go put your head under a pump."

"You're a dog in the manger, Biggles I know you're not interested in the ladies, but you'll be dammed if anyone else can have a look-in."

"For God's sake man! I'm warning you, if you start something with either of those girls you will have me to deal with. Go home Wilks, and sleep it off." Biggles turned and stalked back inside.


	16. Chapter 16

"I'll take Mary and Jeanette home, shall I Biggles?"

'Why don't you go too, Biggles?" said Algy innocently.

"You don't have to come," Ginger instantly responded.

"Oh yes, I do. You'll get lost coming home if I know you," answered Biggles ruthlessly.

Ginger chuckled. "Oh come now. I'm not that bad. I only got lost once when we were in the Baltic."

"Once was enough. And I still don't know how you managed to do it on an island as small as that."

The moon was just beginning to rise as they walked towards the small hotel where Mary and Jeanette were staying.

Ginger and Jeanette held hands as they walked, and whispered in each other's ears, taking a circuitous route to the hotel. They were in no hurry to be home.

"Looks like Ginger is taking the long way home," observed Biggles. "Shall we sit down for a few minutes and give them some time alone?"

"Just don't tell Jeanette's mother she won't be home by ten o'clock."

.

They found a seat on the village green and sat in silence for a little while, side by side.

Biggles lit a cigarette. He remembered another moonlight; another time and place; a stone seat, a small blonde head on his arm in an orchard, the scent of autumn leaves. He looked down at his companion. He knew Algy had been right.

"Bomber's moon, we used to call this. It was a surreal sight, watching the silhouettes of the camels against the moon as they took off a few minutes apart, their exhausts an orange flame in the sky, and hoping they all came back safely. The moon can be your friend or your enemy. But she's beautiful and peaceful tonight. You'd hardly believe there was a war on."

"I wonder how much will have changed after the war."

"More than we realise. But the moon and the stars and the sun will still be there."

The scent of roses from a nearby garden filled the air. The silhouette of an owl swooped down from a nearby tree in the village green and a squeak of a captured mouse broke the silence.

Biggles opened his mouth to say something.

Mary stood up. "Perhaps we should be on our way"

"Will you marry me?" he blurted out suddenly.

Mary whirled around, startled. "What did you say?"

Biggles took a deep breath and shifted slightly to look up and face the girl in front of him. "Mary, I'm not much of a chap with words as you know, but I just asked if you'd marry me." He took her hand gently. "I love you, you know."

Mary sat down beside Biggles and turned to face him. In the glow of his eyes she saw sincerity and uncertainty, regard, concern and something much deeper.

She smiled. "I'd like that"

"I'm a battle-scarred old war dog; I've seen and done too much. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer someone a bit closer your own age? Someone with a whole heart?"

The back of Mary's fingers gently touched Biggles' right cheek.

"I've been in love with one particular battle-scarred old war dog for a long time and I'm afraid only he will do me," she said gently.

She raised her face slightly to his. He bent down and the brim of her hat collided with his dress cap knocking it off. They broke away and laughed. "That titfer of yours may be lovely, but it has to go. It's rather in the way at the moment."

"It's pinned on."

"What a vicious looking brute that pin is." Biggles looked at it with disfavour. "Remind me never to argue with you when you are wearing that hat." He gently removed her hat and placed it carefully on the bench beside his. This time, there was no obstruction.


	17. Chapter 17

Mary emerged slightly dishevelled a few minutes later and took a breath that sounded like a sob. "Oh."

Biggles himself was shaken. "Whew! I think after that, Miss Raymond, you might call me 'James'."

They sat closely with their arms around each other. "Marry me tomorrow, sweetheart?"

"I haven't said yes yet."

"Do you always kiss men that you aren't going to marry like that?" Biggles asked, slightly outraged.

"No, of course not."

"Then what's the problem? Don't you want to marry me?" he moved slightly away to look at her.

"Oh I do. But I think we should wait until after the war."

"Why?"

"I want to be sure that we will be looking at each other over the breakfast cups every morning without regret. There are times I'm scared and lonely and I want to be sure we're getting married for the right reasons. Can you understand?" she took his hand.

"I think so."

"I love you, Biggles. I want you to be happy – for us both to be happy. Think of the responsibilities and life-changes that a wife and family would mean. Do you love me enough to take them on? I need to be sure that it's not just the war talking. The war can't last forever. I'd like to wait until the world is on a more even keel. I need to know you love me for who I am."

"But I do love you," he said huskily. "How can you doubt it?"

"I don't doubt it, dear. I'm your girl back home, I write and send you socks, and I love you to bits."

"A long engagement it is then," he sighed.

"If nothing else will satisfy you. But I won't hold you to it should you change your mind."

"I have no intention of changing my mind and I certainly hope you won't either," he said, kissing her lingeringly. "Now come on, we'd better go do our duty and keep an eye on Ginger and Jeanette. I wonder what they are doing."

"Probably the same as us," chuckled Mary.

"God help us if ever Madame D finds out!"

"Better wipe the lipstick off, dear."


	18. Chapter 18

"Well, here we are."

"G'night then, Mary. Thanks for bringing Jeanette down."

"You're welcome, Ginger. Did you enjoy the night?"

"Sure did, baby!"

"How many years have I known you and you are still speaking that ghastly American slang?" Biggles sighed and shook his head sadly. "I'm surprised Jeanette puts up with it."

Ginger grinned sheepishly. Jeanette leaped to his defence. "But you shouldn't let him tease you, Ginger dear. You should stand up to him and tell him 'go boil your head'."

There was stunned silence for a minute. Then Mary, Ginger and Biggles broke into laughter. Jeanette was puzzled. "What? Why do you laugh?"

"It's not very polite, Jeanette," Ginger tried to explain, but found it hard to stop laughing.

"It means 's-s-stop offering s-s-s-silly opinions'," gasped Mary, breaking into laughter again.

"Or there is a much ruder meaning. I sincerely hope you don't want Ginger to tell me to go and do that!" quizzed Biggles.

"N-n-no. It was something I heard the young men say to each other in London." Jeanette blushed. "Ah, you English! Always you tease."

"Aw, don't mind them!" Ginger gave her a hug.

"What time's your train?" Biggles asked Mary quietly.

"Early afternoon," she replied.

Ginger looked at Biggles hopefully, an unasked question in his eyes.

Biggles smiled at him. "If I can let you have the tender to come and say goodbye to the ladies I will. It depends on what else is happening, laddie. We'd better see if Algy and Bertie have gone yet. It's a long walk back if they have and our late pass finishes just before midnight. 'Night ladies, sleep well."

"Goodnight, Biggles, Ginger."

.

.

* * *

Biggles arrived back at the Squadron Office to find Toddy waiting for him.

"Nice evening, Biggles?"

"Yes, it was rather. Anything new?"

"Well, yes. Air Commodore Raymond rang up. He's coming down to see you at 0900 hours tomorrow."

Biggles raised his eyebrows. "Well, well, well! I don't suppose he gave any indication of what he wanted?"

"Does he ever?"

"I guess not. Still, it's excellent timing. I was going to have a chat with him anyway."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just thinking out loud, Toddy. Are the rest of the officers back yet?"

"Carrington and Mackail aren't."

Biggles glanced at the clock. "They've got a little while left. Judging from the blond job I saw Carrington with he might have lost track of time. Well, time for some blanket drill I think. 'Night Toddy."

"'Night Biggles. See you in the morning."


	19. Chapter 19

Biggles was up bright and early and was in his office with a cup of coffee and a cigarette filling in reports when his second in command wandered in.

"Morning Biggles. You look bright and chipper this morning."

"Raymond's coming down. Just making sure everything is in order."

Algy raised his eyebrows. "I wonder what scheme he has for us now."

"Nothing too suicidal, I hope. I'd rather like to make it to the end of the war in one piece. Still, I for one won't be sorry to see him."

"Oh?" Algy looked sideways at Biggles.

Biggles pen scratched across the page and he reached for the blotting paper and placed it over the report. "There. That's done. I may have to go out today in a hurry. If I do you're in the chair. I promised Ginger the tender this morning to go and say goodbye to Jeanette. What time did Tug and Angus get in?"

"It was after midnight, I believe. I heard them come in, quietly too!"

"That would be a first for Angus. They've probably been up to something other than being late. Well, I'm sure we'll find out sooner or later. So long as it's nothing serious I for one won't let it keep me from my bacon and eggs. Coming?"

.

.

* * *

The Ministry car pulled to a halt and Air Commodore Raymond alighted from the front seat. "You may go and get yourself some refreshment," he said to his driver. "Good morning Bigglesworth. I trust you are well?"

"Never been better, sir. For once I'm almost shrieking with joy to see you."

Raymond raised his eyebrows. "Oh? I don't usually get such a welcome as that when I'm here. Why now? Are you aching to be sent somewhere?"

"I have some business I need to talk over with you. But it can wait. I've come to know that when you turn up you want us to do something insane, suicidal, or both. I have a sudden fancy to survive until the end of the war."

"Don't we all?"

"What's the trouble?"

"Sit down, Bigglesworth. Smoke if you like. Needless to say this conversation will not be repeated to anyone. How much do you know about Northern Africa?"

Biggles grimaced. "More than I care to remember. Lacey, Hebblethwaite, and I spent time in Egypt. We based ourselves at Siwa and Karga and flew over the desert there while looking for a lost civilization. You should remember that we spent some time in that region during the Great War," said Biggles with a trace of bitterness.

"I hadn't forgotten. This job will be nothing like that. It's like this: a fair amount of air traffic is passing from the west coast of Africa to the Middle East. Over this route are being flown urgent stores, dispatches, important officials, and occasionally senior officers. Up until recently it was a safer option than the sea route. Lately a number of machines have unaccountably failed to arrive at their destination. They disappeared somewhere en route. And we don't know what has become of them. We believe that the machines have been intercepted by hostile aircraft. Your job will be to find out what happened to them and put a stop to it. The thing will be to establish a base out there quickly and quietly without anyone knowing. This includes your pilots. We have located an oasis in the middle of the route at which to base you, but we will need to work out the finer details of equipment and personnel. Are you willing to do it?"

"You know perfectly well that I can't say no."

"Splendid! If you come up to the Air Ministry we can go into it in more detail."

"Today?"

"Never a better time. I'll take you back with me. Now what was it you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Let's have a cuppa first."

"Why not?"

Biggles picked up the telephone "Toddy, would you mind seeing to some tea for Air Commodore Raymond and myself? Thanks."

.

Toddy brought the tea in. The air was heavy with the smoke from Raymond's earlier pipe. He knocked it out and began cleaning it prior to filling it. Biggles lit his third cigarette in as many minutes, with hands that shook slightly.

"It's like this sir," he began. "I want to marry your daughter Mary."

Raymond dropped his pipe in surprise. "Mary? Good gracious, man! You're twice her age! Are you in all seriousness proposing to marry her?"

"I asked her to marry me last night."

"Oh." Raymond paused for a minute. "Was she down here?"

"There was a dance at the local hall and she came down to chaperone Hebblethwaite's young lady. She did an excellent job."

"Good lord! Mary a chaperone? She needs one herself most of the time."

"You'd be surprised," Biggles remarked drily. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"It has been a while since I saw her; maybe a good six months or so. I remember she was fond of you as a child but I didn't realise you two were walking out. I'll have to make a point to see her when I get back to London."

"Why not today? Her train leaves this afternoon. She's staying at the Leicester Arms. We've been friends for a long time. It was only last night we realised how we felt about each other. She wants to wait until after the war."

"Perhaps I had better go and see her. Strike while the iron is hot," The Air Commodore rose from his seat. His eyes twinkled slightly. "Would you like to accompany me?"

"I would." Biggles smiled. "Does this mean I have your blessing?"

"Of course. As Mary's father I couldn't ask for a better son-in-law," Raymond said a trifle gruffly. "If you want to get married before the war is over you will need to put it in writing to your C.O. as per the King's Regulations. He might even give you permission," he added humorously.

Biggles shook his hand warmly. "Thank you, sir. We'll wait until after the war. There's no hurry."

.

.

* * *

Mary was sitting reading the paper in the lounge of the hotel. Ginger had taken Jeanette for a walk and they were nowhere to be seen.

"I managed to get away Biggles reached down and dropped a kiss on top of Mary's head. "I brought someone to see you."

"Daddy! What on earth are you doing here?" Mary rose quickly from her seat and took her father's hand.

"I've come to congratulate you," Mary's face lit up. "But why didn't you tell me you were on 'those terms'?"

"We weren't on 'those terms'. It would have been none of your business if we had been. We've been friends for a long time. And it's been months since I saw you. You don't have much time for anything other than work; last time I dropped by you told me you were too busy."

"Point taken. It must have been six months since we saw each other. We may be at war, but I could have made time to talk to you. Trouble is since you began to share with Agatha I keep thinking you're still at home, not in London. Perhaps you could join me for dinner sometimes?"

"That would be nice."

"I've given my blessing. I'll leave you to tell your mother."

"I thought you might. And you're down here because you have another job for Biggles," she said quietly.

"That's the price for being so efficient. I can't tell you any more, you know."

"I know. I also know you have little choice," she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice.

The Air Commodore looked at his daughter and abruptly turned, walked a short distance away, and found something interesting in the newspaper.

Mary and Biggles stood close. Mary broke the silence. "Remember that I will be thinking of you wherever you go and whatever you do and praying for your safe return with my whole heart."

Biggles gave her a gentle hug. "I'll be doing my best to come home safely, Mary." Tears showed in Mary's eyes. "Don't cry, old girl. It's only goodbye for a short while."

"I know. I'll write to you and start knitting a brand-new pair of socks tomorrow. Just let me know where to send them."

"That's my girl," he smiled and kissed her gently. "Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye' and all that."

Mary gave a watery chuckle. "'Not a tear, but a cheer, make it gay' in fact. I didn't think you liked that sort of stuff."

"You'd be surprised what I can learn when I need to," he grinned.

.

.

.

* * *

Many hours later Biggles alighted from the tender that had picked him up from the station.

He walked slowly into the Squadron office where he found Algy waiting, smoking a cigarette.

"Had dinner?"

"No." Biggles lit his own and sat down.

"You look like you've lost a shilling and found a sixpence."

"Perhaps I have," Biggles smiled slightly. "It's been an interesting day."

"If I hazard a guess I'd say Raymond has a job for us," Algy blew a smoke ring.

Biggles smile widened.

"Something insane? Suicidal? He wants you to blow up a dam somewhere? Fly someone into occupied France? Assassinate Hitler?"

"Guess all you like, Algy. I'm under orders."

Algy laughed. "Raymond looked like he'd been knocked for a six when he left here this morning. Did you feed him Toddy's coffee?"

Biggles grinned. "No. I asked him if I could marry his daughter after the war."

Algy stopped laughing. "Are you serious?"

"Completely. But it's to go no further Algy."

There was a brief silence. The smoke from their cigarettes curled upwards to mingle companionably in the haze. "Well I'm completely jiggered. Congratulations! Maybe it's time we had that talk, old boy!"

"Perhaps it's time you paid a visit to your taxidermist, Algy.


	20. Chapter 20

Biggles lay stretched out on his allocated bed at the RAF base at Karga Oasis. Squadron 666 had arrived back there earlier in the day, having been recalled from duty at Salima Oasis. Ginger had been trying to persuade Biggles and Algy to come out on the town before they flew home. Biggles had refused to budge, saying "All I want is a bath and a long sleep."

"Haven't you had enough of deserts?" Algy asked Ginger. "I've had enough to last me for the rest of my life.

"Well I have actually, but how often do we come here?" he waved his hand around at the green palm trees and the city stretching out below and into the desert beyond.

"Too often for my liking," growled Biggles, sitting up and reaching for his cigarette case.

"Grouch," laughed Algy.

"Grouch yourself!" Biggles lit a cigarette and lay back with one hand behind his head. He crossed his ankles and turned to Ginger. "If you want to go out and see the sights, don't let us stop you. We can't go anywhere until the remaining Spits are given a thorough overhaul and transportation is arranged for the rest of us. You already know many of the archaeological sites around the town. You might like to take Henry with you."

"Good idea. Are you sure you won't come, Algy?" Ginger's tone was wistful.

"Not today, Ginger. Maybe tomorrow or the day after if we're still here."

"We probably will be, Algy. It will take a while to get something from the aircraft park at Heliopolis. I'll go somewhere with you tomorrow. Maybe those hot springs a little further south? I've still got a bit of a headache." Biggles blew a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

Algy smiled as Ginger left. "I didn't think you were yourself. A close shave like the one you had will take a little while to heal."

Biggles said with a wry smile, "What worries me is how I am going to explain this to Mary?" he indicated his recent wound.

"Better that you're still here to explain it to her than me having to write a letter expressing my condolences. By the way, when are you going to tell Ginger?"

"I'm not ready to share the news yet."


	21. Chapter 21

Three men dressed in loose shirts and pants listened to the dark-haired woman talking. Each man wore their wounds like a badge of honour. One man had lost a leg below the knee and was seated on a small stool. His crutches were placed on the ground beside him.

"Do you think you can do it?" she asked.

"I'm sure I can," he said. "Providing I can sit down while I plant."

"You'll have to learn to trust that artificial leg soon, Dave. And we'll work with you to try and make things easier and to fine tune everything. Try and stand up for a little while and test your balance. There's a long-handled trowel and you can lean on one of your crutches if you like."

Mary knelt down beside the second man. "How are you doing, Jim?"

"It'll be easier once I get some feeling back in the rest of my fingers."

"The Doc says keep exercising them and you should get something."

"Who's this coming?" Jim looked up towards the road.

Four pair of eyes were raised to the long driveway where a lone figure wearing a blue airman's uniform and carrying a haversack was walking towards them.

They stared for a moment.

"He looks familiar," said Jim.

Mary dropped the potato basket she was holding and set off at a run. "James!"

Biggles picked her up and swung her round, kissing her soundly, laughing all the while.

There was a cheer from the three men watching. Biggles flushed and broke away in embarrassment. "Ahem! Sorry, forgot where I was for a moment."

He looked down at Mary. There was a smudge of dirt on her face and her head was tied up in a scarf. "Home safe as promised, old girl."

"I'm so glad! When did you get back?"

"Yesterday. I'm wanted at the Air Ministry, no doubt to report in person. I decided I could get away with a short detour first so I could see you."

"Wherever you have been it was hot and sunny," she remarked, studying him.

"Yes, Miss Sherlock."

"And – you've been hurt," she said, touching the red scar above his ear.

He pulled away. "Nothing to worry about."

"One day you will tell me how you came to get that," she said quietly.

.

Biggles turned to survey the airmen working in the far corner of the garden. He took a step forward. "Mahoney by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed.

"Well bless my soul! If it isn't Biggles!"

"What on earth are... Oh." Mahoney raised his gloved hand, two fingers of which flapped uselessly.

"I'm sorry to see that. How did it happen?"

"Our aerodrome at Witterring was attacked and my fingers got in the way of shrapnel. My eyesight let me down, so I was confined to ground duties. Most of the boys had already been sent out when the stray bomber came over and unloaded his eggs. Me, Dave, and Peter were the only surviving officers. Dave's had to learn how to walk again; I've had to learn how to feed and dress myself. Pete's arm was badly broken. At least we're home alive. That's something to be grateful for."

"How do you and Jim know each other, Biggles?"

"Mahoney and I met on the boat on the way over to France in the last show. We ended up at 266 squadron in Maranique together. Algy joined us there later."

"Algy! Do you see much of him?" Mahoney asked.

"He's my second in command at 666."

"Tell him I was asking after him."

"I shall. How long are you likely to be here?"

"As long as it takes, Biggles, as long as it takes. And you and Miss Raymond...?"

"Yes. One day." Biggles glanced at Mary.

"Better hurry up and get that knot tied then. There are a number of lads here who would ask nothing better than to carry her off from under your nose."

"I don't think she'd go," he smiled at Mary. "Would you, old girl?"

"Well, if someone offered me a million pounds..." she laughed.

.

"I must go. Walk me to the gate?"

Biggles shook hands with Mahoney and he and Mary set off for the gate. Mary slipped her hand through Biggles arm. They stopped at the gate.

"See you tonight, darling?"

"You bet."

Biggles took a quick look around to see if anyone was watching, then pulled Mary closer and kissed her soundly. There was a cheer from the men looking out of the window above them.

"Confound it!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "Am I ever going to find somewhere quiet enough to kiss you?"

"Probably not," Mary gurgled with laughter.

.

* * *

"Dearest Mary,

It was lovely to see you for even a short while last week. I wish it had been longer. As I said to you that evening, we had our rest while we were still overseas and that was only because it took time to arrange transport home.

Mahoney's right. I still haven't given you a ring. If I can find it when I am next home, I would like you to have my mother's ring. Otherwise we'll have to go looking for something when I next have leave.

Did you get all your planting done?

I hope to see you soon. I might not be able to give you much notice beforehand.

Love Biggles.

.

.

* * *

"James,

What a lovely surprise to see you yesterday! It would be when I was home sick in bed with a dreadful cold and I couldn't even kiss you. I hope you don't catch it. You managed to shock a few people, demanding to be taken to my room! I think they understood when I showed them your mother's ring, which is beautiful, by the way

I felt much better after you made me a hot toddy. Do I dare ask where you found the whiskey?

Love

Mary"

.

* * *

.

"Dear Mary

I hope you are well over your cold by now. Is there any chance you might be able to come down here for a weekend? I'm not sure when I will next get leave.

Life has been fairly regular here, with the only excitement being that Annie the pig has had three little ones. Henry has begged for a few hens and one of the farmers sold us some hatchlings. We are looking forward to fresh eggs when they grow up. Henry has been told that any roosters are to go into the pot or to go back to the farmer. He's chosen the farmer, who will probably put them in the pot anyway!

Must go. There's a lot of paperwork to catch up on.

All my love,

Biggles"

.

.

* * *

"Dearest James,

We've been working without a break for the last few weeks, harvesting and preparing the last of the vegetables for winter and trying to get new ones planted as quickly as possible to capture the last of the warmth in the soil. I wish I could come down, but I can't get away. Is there any chance of you coming to London?

I am so thankful the hard work is nearly over. I am exhausted!

I hope for Henry's sake all the chickens are hens.

I must finish before I am too tired to run to the post with this.

Love you,

Mary"

.

.

.

* * *

The lock on the door in the Mount Street flat tumbled late one wet afternoon about a week later. Biggles ushered Mary into the warm hallway. He shook the rain from his greatcoat and did the same to hers, before hanging both coats on the stand beside the door. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as he realised his arrival had not been noticed by his housekeeper. He quietly placed his kitbag in the hall, took Mary's hand and followed the sound of voices towards the kitchen, where Mrs Symes listened to the wireless while she worked. The scent of vinegar and spices filled the house, by-products of the pickles she was making.

Biggles and Mary stood in the doorway, watching the jars being packed with hot shredded vegetables.

Mrs Symes looked up. "Oh!" she exclaimed and dropped her ladle in surprise. "Welcome home!" She caught the sparkle of Mary's ring and recognized it from the portrait she had dusted every week for many years. She looked up and saw how tired they were. "You both look like you need a cuppa,"

"We do, Mrs Symes. Mary hasn't had a break for a couple of weeks and I've been at the Air Ministry all day."

"I'll bring it to you in the parlour. Congratulations to you both!"

"Thank you," Biggles smiled.

.

.

.

* * *

Rather more than an hour later Mrs Symes returned to pick up the tea tray. It was very quiet and she wondered if Mr Bigglesworth and Miss Raymond had gone out and she had missed them. She pushed open the door.

Curled up on the couch with her head on his shoulder, Miss Raymond and Mr Bigglesworth were deeply asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

"Dearest James.

I hope you are keeping well and life isn't too strenuous.

Just a quick note as I am up to my ears in building things for the Christmas Pantomime.

Are you able to get leave on Christmas Day?

If you can't come to London, perhaps I can come to you instead.

Mary."

.

.

* * *

"Mary,

Please come down to the station for Christmas Day. Some of our boys have leave, but others have invited their families to join us for the day.

Henry made a suggestion, which each of the boys agreed with. Everyone is providing a small gift to put under the tree. Each member of the squadron will give a gift; each one will receive a gift. You won't know who it is from. That way everybody gets something.

It would be wonderful to be able to spend an entire day with you.

Love Biggles."

.

.

* * *

"Dear Mary

Bertie has been hunting and has brought back a deer and rabbits. He borrowed one of a nearby communication squadron's two-seaters, flew it out to his country estate and indulged in a spot of hunting.

When he arrived back I wondered what the flap was. Here's Bertie, covered in blood and I thought he must have been hit. He then offloaded most of the deer and our kitchen staff took care of some of it. The rest has been left with the squadron whose aircraft he borrowed.

Needless to say, I dragged him over the carpet about it as a matter of discipline. He told me he was browned off that day and remembered Algy talking in the mess about the time in the last show I had provided a turkey dinner for Christmas. Knowing meat would be appreciated by everyone, he didn't think I'd mind.

He has been given the job of cleaning out that two-seater and polishing it until he can see his face in it – a difficult task considering the weather this week.

I confined him to barracks for 24 hours, which was a bit of a blow as he, Algy, Taffy, and Tug had plans to go to the flicks that night.

I did let him off fairly lightly as he had good intentions, but discipline must be maintained!

Sometimes I think these boys will drive me mad!

Much love,

Biggles"


	23. Chapter 23

**December 1943**

Ginger had been inclined to be a little disgruntled that Jeanette had not been allowed to come down to Rawlham for Christmas. Still, the promise of a good feed and presents went a long way towards reconciling him. He'd persuaded Biggles to allow them to have a Christmas tree and everyone had helped with decorating it. He'd made a couple of extra pine cone decorations and posted them to Jeanette.

Biggles and some of the men were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the first tender from the town and station. Not everyone had a visitor for Christmas Day, and many of the NCOs had been given a week's leave to go home.

Smyth's younger son, wife, and daughter alighted from the first and were warmly greeted by Smyth and Roy, although Roy's eyes kept straying towards the road. "Where's he gone now?" asked Mrs Smyth, looking round a few minutes later. "Well I never!" she exclaimed as she spotted her oldest son kissing a girl in a WAAF uniform passionately.

"Yes, he's found himself a girl."

"He's far too young"

"Nonsense! He's older than we were. You remember when I came home on leave that first time?"

Mrs Smyth smiled and blushed like a schoolgirl.

.

.

Toddy's eldest children raced to meet him. He laughed, dropped down on one knee, and enveloped them in a big hug as they threw themselves on him excitedly, both chattering like magpies. His wife stood smiling watching them, holding their six-month old boy, Harry. With the children hanging off his arms he walked over to her and took the little boy from her with a smile and gave her a kiss.

.

.

Biggles took Mary's outstretched hands and squeezed them tightly. "Merry Christmas, Mary. You look wonderful, dear," he said softly, his eyes resting on her with pleasure. She met his eyes and there was a wealth of meaning in her smile. He touched her cheek gently.

"Merry Christmas, James," she said, kissing him.

.

Ginger stared and looked wildly around. There was no mistletoe overhead. His eyes caught the flash of a ring on Mary's third finger.

"Yes," said an amused voice beside Ginger. "Biggles has been keeping secrets."

"Did you know?"

"I noticed something recently and I – er - persuaded him to confide in me."

"How did you manage that?"

"Trade secret," grinned Algy. "Although I'm betting our human oyster was about ready to spill the beans anyway. He didn't want anyone to know, Ginger," Algy added gently, seeing the hurt expression on the young man's face. "He was concerned about the difference in their age and what people might think. Remember who her father is."

Ginger turned to Algy. "He needn't have been. Anybody here says anything and they'll have me to deal with." Ginger suddenly grinned. "Just look at him," he nodded towards Biggles who was oblivious to the rest of the guests. "Come on, Algy, let's take everybody inside or they'll stay out here in the cold all day."

.

.

A bright fire burned in the hearth of the Mess; a few logs in a basket beside it. It gave out a cheery warmth and the tang of wood smoke tinged the air.

Once inside, Biggles had introduced Mary to his squadron and all the guests had offloaded their presents under the tree which had been set up in a corner.

Mary sat beside Biggles sipping the glass of lemonade he had poured for her. ("Don't bother with the wine, it's awful," he'd whispered.) Formality had gone by the board for today and the room was crowded with NCOs and Officers, with their friends and family.

The catering staff had worked overtime and produced miracles.

The Mess waiters cleared the bowls of cream of tomato soup and brought out the second course.

Bertie's deer had been turned into a savoury-smelling casserole and was served with mashed potatoes, carrots, beetroot and cauliflower. There was – miracle of miracles – roasted poultry of various kinds, enough for everyone to have a taste. Biggles didn't ask where they had come from, but he hoped Bertie hadn't had anything to do with them.

The room rang with chatter and laughter. Everyone cleared their plates and there was enough for a small amount of seconds.

Biggles stopped the passing Mess Waiter and ordered Mary another lemonade and selected a beer for himself.

.

Mary was seated next to Toddy's wife, Ivy, and baby son and was in conversation with that young man. Baby Harry reached out and took a fistful of Mary's hair in his fat little hands and tried to eat it.

"No! Bad boy!" Ivy detached her son from Mary. "Sorry."

"That's alright. Could I hold him while you finish your lunch?"

"That would be wonderful. I sometimes feel I should have been born an octopus," she laughed.

Harry looked up at Mary, who began to stroke his face. Biggles watched on with a tender smile as the baby's eyes started to get heavy and a few minutes later he was asleep.

"My word! That was fast."

"It would be lovely to have a little chap like this," said Mary, a touch wistfully.

"One day we will," Biggles said quietly.

.

.

* * *

In the early afternoon, a staff car pulled up and discharged Air Commodore Raymond. He made his way over to the Mess where music could be heard. Algy and Bertie were at the piano; Henry was accompanying them on a violin Ginger was joining in with a harmonica. Angus was standing in the background keeping time on a snare drum. Tex was strumming a few chords on Bertie's guitar. Many of the men and women in the room were singing.

When Air Commodore Raymond entered, Biggles stood up with a smile. "Welcome, sir. Glad you could make it." Everyone exchanged pleasantries and soon Raymond was seated next to Tug with his cup of tea, enjoying the music and looking at the changes about the room. The Daily Mirror's comic strip 'Jane' had been removed; pin-ups and posters featuring scantily clad women had gone; as had the medical ones 'Doc' Lorton had put up. The men had decided to leave the film posters and the fundraising and warning posters and had added a few decorations

Tug sat and absorbed the homeliness and friendly camaraderie along with his tea. He'd been as surprised as the rest of the squadron by Biggles' introduction of this smiling cheerful young woman as his future wife. He saw Biggles face light up when she walked into the room and he could see that Biggles was acutely aware of where she was even while chatting with other guests. He noted how often Mary's eyes strayed in Biggles direction.

Once when she left the room he observed the unguarded expression on Biggles face, upon which briefly it was written how much he cared for his young fiancée.

Suddenly, Tug felt uncomfortable and looked away. He had strayed into his C.O.'s private thoughts. He began to understand that there were other things worth fighting for than revenge and he felt a sudden wave of loneliness. He knew his current girl wouldn't last. He hoped one day to have somebody whom he could care for like that. During the afternoon he came to realise that a good relationship was based on mutual respect, friendship, caring, and above all, love.


	24. Chapter 24

"Well, I think it's time for presents," remarked Biggles, once everyone had had their tea and the music was over. "Where shall we start?" he reached in and grabbed one. "To Ginger from Father Christmas," he smiled and passed it over.

He continued to hand out the presents until everyone had one. The gifts were for the most part simple – bookmarks, socks, precious rations of sweets and soap Each of the officers got a small jar of home-made apple jelly. Many of the men had spent their spare time in making cigarette cases out of damaged metal from their aircraft or carved from wood.

The children had homemade toys for the most part. Those with the skills to make these had traded them in exchange for cigarettes and sweets. A few oranges had been given by one of the local American Air Force squadrons.

The children played with their toys, their doting parents watching them.

Biggles leaned over towards Mary.

"Like a quick tour of the station?"

"Yes, please."

"You'll need your coat. It will be cold."

.

Biggles took Mary outside into the cold windswept landscape. Grey clouds scuttled across the sky and a few stinging spats of rain fell from them.

"Come on," Biggles grabbed Mary's hand and made a run for the leeward side of an aircraft hangar.

"If it gets any colder it might turn to snow," Mary said hopefully.

"Not until everyone is safe at home I hope. Anyway – this is the station," he said waving his hand in the general direction of everything. "Over there are the anti-aircraft guns, sickbay, control tower. In the farmhouse there are the Officer's barracks – which I can't show you, nor the accommodation for the NCOs in the old barn. Behind us is one of the aircraft hangars where we have our Spitfires. Come and I'll show you." Biggles opened the door and stepped inside. "It's a little less breezy in here."

"Which one is yours?"

"This one," Biggles walked over to his machine and stroked it on the nose.

"What a beautiful machine."

"Yes, she's powered by over a thousand horsepower Rolls Royce engine, and can do more than 360 miles per hour and has eight…" he broke off and laughed. "I'm rather fond of the old girl as you can tell."

There was a giggle and a scuffle from back of the hangar. Biggles took a step forward in that direction.

"Good afternoon Pilot-Officer Carrington, Miss Miller."

"Good afternoon, sir." Tug and his girlfriend emerged from the shadows. Tug straightened his collar and tie and tried to tuck his shirt in. Miss Miller patted her hair and looked embarrassed.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing here?"

"I.. um.. I was showing Bernice my Spitfire."

"Oh, was that what you were showing her?" Biggles asked interestedly. There was a stifled snort from Mary.

"I..Um…er"

"Did you ask my permission to show a civilian around?"

"No, sir."

"Then you can go back to the Mess."

"Yes, sir." Tug turned away in embarrassment.

"Oh - and Tug." Tug turned around. Biggles smiled. "You might like to see Miss Miller home safely tonight. Ask Toddy for a late pass."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

.

Biggles waited until they were out of earshot, then broke into laughter. "I can't be too hard on him, poor devil."

"That was probably his Christmas present."

"He'll survive. Did you want to take a look inside at the controls? You'll need to climb up on the wing."

.

Biggles helped Mary up and clambered up beside her onto the wing. He dropped the side door for her to get a better look. He suggested she hold on to the door frame and made sure she wouldn't fall by keeping his arm around her.

Mary looked at the dials and levers. "What an absolute work of art to get everything so compact. She's beautiful."

"Like you," Biggles said quietly.

"Me," Mary turned back, startled. "I'm just ordinary."

He touched her cheek. "You're not, you know. I …"

The door clattered open. Biggles sighed. "This place is getting to be like Kings Cross Station on a Friday afternoon. Hold tight." He slid down the wing. "Good afternoon Corporal Smyth," he called. "That's a very attractive shade of lipstick you are wearing, but it doesn't quite go with your uniform."

Roy started as Biggles sauntered around to the front of his wing. "Hello Sally. Bit breezy out there, isn't it?"

Roy looked at him uncertainly. "You won't tell Dad will you?"

"Me? Oh no. I remember some of the things your father got up to in the last war. I think you have more to worry about from your mother. She certainly gave him the rounds of the kitchen when we came back from British Guiana many years ago. She has a dab hand with a rolling pin. I'll never forget it," he added reminiscently. "…Mr. Lacey and I copped the flak as well."

"Um. I think there's Christmas cake in the Mess, sir. C'mon Sally." He grabbed her hand and promptly fled.

.

"Ah, young love." Biggles walked back around the wing. "Slide down. I'll catch you." He held out his arms and as Mary slid into them he tightened them around her. He looked at her for a few moments with a smile. "Perhaps those boys had the right idea." He bent his head.

"Meow! HSSSSS!""RUFF RUFF RUFF" The station's cat came in through a hole in the wall, with Bertie's dog Towser in hot pursuit. It leaped up and raced over the nearest Spitfire where it remained perched, hissing like a steam kettle.

Mary put her head on Biggles' shoulder and started laughing. After a moment of cursing which made Mary laugh all the more he joined in and soon both were leaning on the Spitfire weeping with laughter and holding each other up

"Why is it every time I try and kiss you…" he choked. "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the buildings. By the way," he added as he shut the door to the hangar. "I have your Christmas present in the office and I've been waiting for the right time to give it to you."

.

.

* * *

A brisk walk around the rest of the aerodrome saw them back in the office via a side door, the office was slightly warmer.

Mary opened the small package that Biggles gave her. Inside on a dark red ribbon nestled a well-worn oval locket made of gold, with a cross engraved onto the front.

"My father gave it to my mother when they got married," he said quietly. "I found it in a box of his things in the attic one time when I was home. The Indian climate had damaged the original ribbon. I put a new one on so you could wear it with that lovely dress. And I put a new photograph in it."

Mary examined it reverently. She fumbled with the catch and opened it to reveal a new photograph of Biggles. "It's beautiful," she smiled and handed it back to him. "Please can you put it on for me?"

Biggles tied the ribbon on safely, his fingers gently brushing the back of Mary's neck. "There you are." He kissed where his fingers had touched and she shivered, leaning back towards him. He slipped his arms around her.

"Thank you. I'll wear it always."

"Mother did as well." He held her gently for a few moments, enjoying the warmth and the smell of her perfume. "Mary, we're due to come off active service in a few weeks for a rest. Can't we get married then?"

Mary smiled shyly. "I'd like that." The telephone bell shattered the gentle atmosphere, causing them both to jump. Biggles picked it up before it had finished its second ring and answered it curtly. "Yes? He's not readily available at the moment, can I take a message?" he listened intently as he scribbled on a piece of paper. "I'll find him as soon as I can, sir. Goodbye." He looked ruefully at Mary. "It's going to be one of those days."

He looked at her and saw her shiver.

"It's too cold in here for you," he said abruptly. "Let's get back to the Mess."

He led the way down the cold corridor and opened the side door into the mess where a cheer went up from the men. Both were startled at the reception. "Look up," called Ginger.

Mary and Biggles slowly raised their eyes above their heads and spotted the sprig of mistletoe above them.

Biggles groaned. "I wondered why everyone was using the other door."

Mary kissed him chastely on the cheek.

There was a groan of disappointment.

"Tough luck, chaps," Biggles said sardonically, passing the phone message to Air Commodore Raymond.

.

.

.

* * *

Algy tuned in the wireless for the King's Christmas message.

It crackled into life as it warmed up

_Once again the Queen and I send our Christmas greetings and good wishes to each one of you, all the world over.' Some of you may hear me in your ships, aboard your aircraft, or as you -wait for battle in the jungles of the Pacific Islands or on the Italian peaks. Some of you may listen to me as you rest from your work, or as you lie sick or wounded in hospital. To many of you my words will come as you sit in the quiet of your homes, but wherever you may be today, of all days in the year, your thoughts will be in distant places and your hearts with those you love._

_'I hope my words spoken to them, and to you may be a bond joining us all in to one company for a few moments on this Christmas Day."_

Biggles sat with Mary beside him, listening intently. The smoke from his cigarette curled peacefully upwards, its pattern only to be shattered by his own hand every time he raised it to his lips. Every now and then he'd glance at the girl beside him holding Toddy's youngest child, and smile gently when their eyes met.

Angus's thoughts were far away in Aberdeen with his family. He wondered if his brother Donald had been able to get home and was listening to the King's message. He took the hand of the girl beside him and wondered what his mother would make of her.

Henry thought of his little sister who'd recently started her nurse's training. She might be at home, or at the hospital. He hoped the war would be over before she finished her training.

Tug's thoughts were full of ghosts as he consumed his cigarette rapidly in short angry puffs. He looked around the room at the men who had become his family and wondered what they were thinking. Bernice put her hand on his thigh and he shook it off.

Bertie sat and smoked thoughtfully. He remembered the days before the war when he had been Lord Lissie and been surrounded by sycophants. He much preferred being plain Bertie Lissie of Squadron 666 and being valued for himself, not for his money or title.

Ginger was watching Mary and Biggles, but his thoughts were of Jeanette. He wished she had been allowed to come down. He hoped that by Christmas next year the war would be over and she would be sitting beside him.

Ferocity wondered on what far-flung shore his brothers in the army were today. He hoped they were safe and having a well-deserved rest. He hoped his mother had got the Christmas present and card he had made her.

Tex hoped his Mom was doing well and his thoughts strayed to her apple pie and wondered if she had made it today. He knew it was fairly unlikely she would be listening to the King's message. More likely she'd be listening to a repeat broadcast of Glenn Miller's Air Force band.

Algy contemplated what the future might hold as he practiced blowing smoke rings. He knew Biggles was happier than he had been in many years. He wondered, if there were any more flying adventures after the war, whether Mary would insist on coming. He could imagine the lively arguments if Biggles said 'no'. He smiled at the thought.

Air Commodore Raymond looked at the faces of the men and women surrounding him. He wondered how many of them would still be here next Christmas.

…"_From this ancient, beloved, festival that we are keeping today-sacred as it is to home and all that home means to us. We can draw strength to face the future of a world riven by a tempest such as it never hitherto has endured. 'In the words of a Scottish writer of our day, 'No experience can be too strange, and no task too formidable, if man can link it up with what he knows and loves."_

_._

_._

_._

* * *

Toddy burst into the mess a little over a month later where most of the squadron were just finishing their evening coffee.

"Biggles – I've had a signal," he panted. "You're to hand in all your equipment and take the Squadron by road to Pembroke Dock, where the flying boat Capricorn is waiting to take you to Malta."

"What? When?"

"Within an hour."

"Stiffen the crows! And we were due for a rest. Still, I'm sure we'll get one in sunny Malta before we start duty. OK, you chaps, get weaving and pack up. If you've got your tropical kit here, wear it. It's for your own safety. The sooner you're organised, the more time you have for a last-minute letter home or a phone-call to cancel plans. It's a long journey ahead."

.

.

* * *

"Dear Mary

We've just had a signal and been posted. So much for getting married next week!

I have been told BFPO 61 is likely to be our new address.

I don't know how long we will be there.

Already missing you, dearest.

James"


	25. Chapter 25

Many weeks later four airmen alighted from the Swansea train at Paddington station. They had arrived at Pembroke dock in the early hours of the morning, their faces grey and oily with the strain of fatigue. There Biggles had made a phone call and Ginger had sent a telegram. Some of the squadron had left the train at Carmarthen to head further north. Algy and Taffy's paths lay on the same line. Algy was glad of company for most of the journey as he made his way on a long-overdue visit to his old home in Merionethshire to see his parents for a short while, before joining the others in London.

Ferocity had gone home to Liverpool, taking Tex with him.

Henry and Angus were being returned to a rehabilitation hospital near London, not too far from Mount Street, where Biggles and Ginger were bound for. Bertie and Tug had promised to look in at some point during their ten days leave.

Tired as he was, Biggles set a brisk pace as he walked towards home, with Ginger struggling to keep up. He broke into a run the last hundred or so yards when he identified the figure waiting on their doorstep.

Mary heard the sound of running footsteps and looked up eagerly. Her face lit up as she beheld the slim figure and almost fell down the steps in her haste to get to him. "James!" she exclaimed, catching him in her arms, laughing. He lifted her off the ground in a fierce embrace. "Mary."

"Oh, my poor darling. You're exhausted – both of you," she added as she saw Ginger, who had taken a more leisurely approach and was grinning at them.

"We've been better," Biggles admitted, his arm around her. "But we're home now and I'm sure Mrs Symes has the kettle on. And I'm looking forward to escorting you home tomorrow."

.

.

* * *

The following day Mary and Biggles took the train down to Mary's home near Malmesbury. It was a fairly slow journey and the train was forced to wait in sidings on several occasions due to the troop trains being given priority. Mrs Raymond met them at Little Somerford, as the train to Malmesbury did not run on a Sunday. One of the land girls had been pressed into service and was waiting to drive them home in an old horse-drawn cart that had seen better days.

Biggles lifted his and Mary's bags in and then handed the ladies into the vehicle, before climbing in beside Mary.

.

.

* * *

A shrill cry broke the silence of the night. Mary had been aware for a few minutes of the restless sounds in the next room. She put on her dressing gown and opened the door from her room and quickly went into the next room

For the most part muttering incoherently, the murmurings were punctuated by intelligible words and cries of terror. "No!.. I can't…. Stop!" Biggles tossed and turned; he was sweating and shaking profusely.

"It's all right, James. You're safe here with me." Mary switched on his bedside lamp. His hazel eyes stared uncomprehendingly for a few moments before registering where he was.

"I didn't think I'd be coming home."

"You're home safe now," Mary reached out and held him tightly. Great choking sobs racked his body, the tears soaking her dressing gown and through to her nightdress.

"Shhhh. It'll be ok. You're safe James, darling." She rocked him gently and continued to talk softly, stroking his hair.

There was a scuffle outside the door in the corridor.

"What are you children doing out of bed?" a woman's voice asked sharply.

"We heard someone yelling and came to see what was happening," a boy's treble voice said. There was a chorus of agreement.

"Is everything all right Miss Mary?" The woman with curlers in her hair and wearing a pink dressing gown peered in through the door.

"Yes thank you, Nanny. It's only a nightmare. Squadron Leader Bigglesworth could probably do with a cup of tea."

There was a muttered comment in a childish voice that sounded like 'coward'.

"When some of you children have quite finished offering stupid opinions I suggest you get back to bed. Got anything constructive to add? No? If any of you are still here when I get back with tea you will feel the back of my hairbrush on your behind."

Mary continued to hold Biggles, talking quietly until footsteps could be heard coming back. Biggles sat up. He was still shaking from the effects of the nightmare.

Nanny handed them both a cup. "Those dratted evacuees are sometimes more trouble than they are worth. If you need anything else, love, give me a call."

"Thanks, Nanny."

"Looks like a good cuppa. Thanks," Biggles took a sip as she left the room.

There was silence for a few minutes that became awkward. Mary waited.

"If you're going to scare me half to death with the screaming meemees you need to tell me something."

"I know."

More silence while they drank their tea.

"There were times I was frightened," Biggles finally said as he got up and went to his kitbag. He rummaged around for a moment and withdrew his cigarette case and a letter. He sighed and lit a cigarette. "Sorry. I need this." He handed the letter over to Mary. "I'm glad that I am still here to give this to you

"Are you really sure you want me to read this?" She looked at Biggles.

"Yes. No. I don't know." He paced agitatedly around the room. "I only know that I can't talk about most of it. I want to. I don't want to keep secrets from you, but I just can't. This is the best explanation I've got."

.

.

"Darling Mary,

I sincerely hope you never read this letter. Or if you do I am standing beside you as you read it. If anyone else has given it to you then I am dead.

We're up against it this time. But it's not an enemy we can see. Give me one of those any day. I hate working in the dark; I like to see who I am fighting. One by one something is picking the men off, slowly and surely and my time cannot be too far away. I admit that I am frightened, Mary.

I cannot ask my boys to go out and commit suicide, yet essentially that is what I am doing. And we will go off one by one in order of seniority until we find this thing or have all gone for a Burton.

Mary, darling, I think of all the things I'd like to say, that I may never now have a chance to say.

You know I'm not particularly good with words, but words are all that I will have left to give you in the end.

You mean so much to me, you have brought love and laughter back into my life. I never knew how much my life would change the day I met you again on Kingsway. We've always been good friends, you and I. It's only now I realise I must have been in love with you for a good many years.

I look at the moon out here, not too far from where your mother was born, and know that you will see the same moon where you are. It is the one thing I can share with you.

We may never grow old together, sitting side by side with our grandchildren at our feet.

And I may never get to hold you in my arms again and tell you I love you, or lie beside you at night and watch you while you sleep.

I can only write, and wish that I was with you, right now.

The station is quiet tonight, but sleep seems a long way away for all of us. I can hear Henry and Ginger talking quietly in the next room, and I can smell Tug's particular brand of tobacco.

I have your photograph in my breast pocket and will carry it with me when I go up and know that you are close to my heart.

I must try and sleep now.

My beautiful Mary, I love you so much.

James"

.

.

Mary sat for a moment staring into space; tears began to slide down her cheeks. Then she turned to look at Biggles. His eyes met hers, willing her to understand. "I'm not a coward, Mary."

"I know you and I know that whatever has happened you are not a coward." She put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

He looked down. "Machines dropped out of the sky in front of us."

He lit another cigarette with hands that shook slightly and smoked silently until it was finished.

Mary put her head on Biggles shoulder.

"We nearly lost Angus to this thing. Henry crashed and broke his leg."

Biggles turned his face to Mary's shoulder and held her tightly.

"I can't begin to imagine how you felt." She stroked his hair gently.

He was silent for a few minutes.

"Please stay with me for a while. Whenever I close my eyes I see Angus, as Tug and I loaded him into the Moth."

.

The bedside clock ticked by the minutes. Somewhere in the house the deep boom of the grandfather clock sounded the half hour - or was it one o'clock? It was impossible to tell.

.

Biggles relaxed as they talked quietly, and his breathing became deep and regular. Soon he was asleep with his head on Mary's shoulder, snoring slightly. Mary dozed fitfully, waking every time Biggles became restless with the beginnings of another nightmare.

As the grey dawn was breaking, she finally slept, only to be woken by Nanny with a cup of tea.

Mary slid carefully off the bed to take her tea.

"How is he, dear?"

"He slept reasonably well, apart from the bad dreams."

"Poor man. It's time you went back to your own room. You know what will happen if your mother finds you here."

Mary sighed. "You're right, Nanny. Maybe I can get some sleep myself."


	26. Chapter 26

Biggles sat on the terrace, reading the newspaper. He picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and took a quick drag. He exhaled, coughing slightly. He knew he had been smoking too much recently and resolved to try and cut back during the next few days. He shivered slightly as the sun went behind a cloud. He wondered if it would rain before they were able to visit the local registrar to try to obtain a special licence and if a ring would be available. Once everything was sorted he could let Algy and Ginger know the details.

Mary came out to join him. "How long have you been awake for?" she asked, sitting beside him.

"Not long," he said with a smile, taking her hand. "Long enough to know I don't want to read any more doom and gloom in the papers today."

"Plenty of books in the library," she smiled back. "There's the old classics, some Agatha Christie, D.H. Lawrence."

"Not_ Lady Chatterley_ I hope?" Biggles looked shocked.

"Amongst others. Have you read it? Daddy's rather a D.H. Lawrence fan. "

"Er-I've read his travel books."

"Oh, so have I. I particularly loved his _Italian Essays_*. I read it after we came back from Italy. He captures the spirit of the place so well."

*(Note- _Sketches of Etruscan places and Italian Essays_)

"I kept thinking it would be a lot faster to travel by plane than walk."

"But you'd miss the sights and the smells; the piney scent of the forest or the brilliance of the Tuscan gardens, the odd whiff of garlic; the ancient taste of ripe olives and fresh tomatoes with a hint of basil; grapes warm from the sun bursting in your mouth." She broke off with a laugh. "Sorry, I'm rambling. But there's something about the sheer vibrancy of the place that gets to you."

"South America." Biggles smiled.

"Yes. You inspired me that day, you know. I still have my old atlas somewhere - bit worse for wear as I wrote down every place we went to. And I collected postcards before I could write."

"Why don't you go and get it?" Biggles shivered again. His body was starting to ache.

"Are you cold?"

"I just can't seem to get warm."

"I'll bring you a coat."

Mary got up and started to walk towards the house. "Oh by the way," she turned back with a mischievous smile "you never answered my earlier question."

"It was educational," he replied dryly.

Mary laughed. "It was at that," as she went inside.

.

.

She returned with the books and Biggles coat. She sat down at the table beside him and opened the atlas.

"Every time you and Algy visited us you'd tell us such wonderful stories about where you had been." Mary pointed to some of the notes written in a childish hand. "And then Ginger joined you on those adventures. I was so envious I wished I was a boy so I could join you too."

"But look at your atlas. You've been to some wonderful places that I haven't been to. Greece, Italy, and Morocco. When the war is over why don't we travel somewhere?"

Mary's eyes shone. "Could we? Would you take me to South America?"

"I'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. If we can afford it," he added prudently.

"That would be lovely. All the flowers and animals. The different food."

"A good dose of gippy tummy." Biggles interrupted.

Mary laughed "No romance in your soul have you?"

"None whatsoever." He grinned and shivered again. Suddenly he slumped in his chair.

"James, you're not well," Mary put her hand on Biggles cheek. "My goodness, you're hot!"

"Just a bout of malaria," he said. "Came on suddenly. Sorry, old girl. I'm not going to be much company for a few days."

"I'd better get you to bed. You need a doctor."

"There's quinine in my kitbag. That'll do. I'll be better once I can sleep it off."

.

Mary helped Biggles to his room where he collapsed on the bed, the result of the exertion of trying not to lean heavily on Mary. Mary rummaged in his bag and found the bottle. "Here you are." Unscrewing the bottle, she handed it to Biggles, who took two and swallowed them. "One every eight hours from now on," he said.

"Can you manage to get yourself into bed?" she asked anxiously. "I can do your shoes, but can't do the rest."

"Come back in about twenty minutes and I should be all right." He smiled tiredly and took her hand. "Don't worry, lass. I'll be right as rain in a few days."

.

.

At Mrs Raymond's insistence the doctor had been and seen Biggles, who was thoroughly disgusted by the fuss. He'd supplied a bottle of Atebrin, remarking that Biggles must have the last bottle of quinine in existence and agreed that he'd be as right as rain in a few days. Quietly to Mrs Raymond he suggested that someone might like to sit with Biggles, just to keep an eye on him and to watch for a change in symptoms that would mean the disease was changing for the worse. It was pretty unlikely, he felt, because treatment had started so rapidly.

.

Biggles lay under the blankets, sweating profusely. He was cold despite the fire burning in the room. His throat was sore and his head was aching. He was grumpy and tired. Mrs Raymond had decided that she and Nanny would share any nursing that needed to be done. The click of Mrs Raymond's knitting needles was getting on his nerves and he was finding it hard to rest.

He wondered where Mary was. "Mary," he murmured. He hadn't seen her since she brought him a cup of tea earlier that morning. He could do with a cup of tea, he thought. Tea came from India, didn't it? He'd grown up in India. Mrs Raymond had been born in India. Mrs Raymond was Mary's mother. "Mary." Where was Mary? He had to find her. It was foggy. She'd get lost.

Suddenly he was aware of a face looking at him. "Mary," he muttered, reaching for the face, which disappeared. He tossed and turned, trying to identify the voices he could hear. "Mary."

"I'm here, James." Her face swam into view and he felt a cool hand touch his. He grabbed it and said urgently "We've got to get to India. Angus has crashed into a tea plantation and there are piranhas in the river."

"Algy and Ginger sent me a signal to say they have already picked him up and he's safe in hospital. You can't go to India until you've had your malaria medicine and a brush up. I need time to have a cup of tea and a bowl of soup before we go. It's a long way to India and I'm very hungry."

"It's cold," Biggles shivered and swallowed his Atebrin.

"Some soup will warm you up. Can you sit up and drink some?" Biggles sat up with a lot of help and Mary held a cup of soup to his lips and fed him slowly until the soup was gone. Mary watched him carefully and was glad to see his colour improve and his eyes became less feverish as the medication began to work. She laid him back down.

.

She wrung out a cloth in a bowl of cool scented water and began to sponge Biggles' face gently. His eyes never left her face. Once he made a comment: "What is it?"

"It's lavender and roses from the garden," she began to sponge his neck and chest.

"Nice," he sighed and closed his eyes.

.

After more than an hour Mary noticed he was settled again and was sweating less. "Do you know where you are?" she asked gently, covering him up.

His eyes opened. "I'm with you at your home."

"You don't want to go to India?"

"Not a chance! That's where all this trouble began. Why should I?"

Mary smiled and relaxed. "Because nearly two hours ago you were rambling and insisting we had to go to India. Welcome back. You had us worried."

"What time is it?" he reached over and took her hand.

"Well after three in the morning. Mother came and got me when you started asking for me."

"Who was it knitting?"

"Mother. You told her to put those infernal things away."

"I didn't!" Biggles was horrified.

"You certainly did!" Mary chuckled. "I was never more delighted in my life." She looked down at him and smiled. "You're a very fetching shade of yellow, you know."

Biggles grimaced. "One of the unpleasant side effects of this stuff. Is there anything to eat? I'm rather hungry."

"Could you manage some egg sandwiches and a cup of tea?"

Biggles eyed the plate that had been sitting under a damp cloth "I could manage all of those."

"They're all yours." Biggles sat up and realised his pyjama top was unbuttoned. He blushed slightly, and began to button it up quickly. Mary pretended not to notice and reached for the thermos of tea Nanny had left.

.

Biggles ate all the sandwiches and drank two cups of tea. "Well that certainly hit the spot," he sighed.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

"I'll try."

"I'll be right here if you need anything."

"No you won't! You're going right back to bed yourself. That's an order!" There was a suspicion of a smile.

"Yes Squadron Leader Bigglesworth, sir!" Mary snapped a mock salute with a grin.

"And you know there's only one thing you can do when your Squadron Leader issues an order."

"Now what would that be?" she pondered out loud. "Call him an autocratic bully? Or kiss him?"

"Definitely the latter," Biggles grinned, holding out his hand.

"If you insist," she laughed and bent down.

He held her hand tightly for a moment. "I love you, darling."

"I love you too, James. Sleep well."

"You too."


	27. Chapter 27

A few days later Biggles was up and slowly moving about the garden. His strength had rapidly improved. For the most part he was content to watch Mary giving the roses some long overdue attention, or helping her mother with the evacuees they had staying there. Some of the younger children were inclined to be wary of Biggles; others realised he was good for a story or two when in the right mood.

.

Mary was potting up some of her father's tropical orchids in the hot house. The weather had changed and was grey and cloudy with the hint of rain the air. The hothouse was pleasantly warm. Biggles sat on an upturned flower pot and wondered how this was possible when there were fuel shortages.

"It's heated by manure and compost," she said, looking up with a smile at his astonished face. "I knew what you were wondering. Everyone wants to know how we keep it warm. There's plenty of manure out on the property, more so since the land girls use our horses in the fields."

"It's always puzzled me why you chose to come to London when you could have been a land girl here and done exactly the same things."

"Not exactly the same," she replied quietly. "Here I would have always been under Mother's thumb and been the daughter of the house. I don't have Nanny after me every time it rains telling me to come inside and change my shoes before I catch my death. I could never have done anything here."

"This is home and I love being here. But it's like a soft warm pillow – smothering at times. I needed to get away from it. Everyone I cared about was going off to do their bit– you, Algy, Ginger, my father, and brother and I knew I couldn't stay here. I wouldn't have been able to face you all if I'd stayed home when you were all facing such danger. Daddy forbade me to get involved in any intelligence work. Two in the family were enough, he said, but he understood my need to do valued work and find my niche. Mother was the one who made the fuss. So I came to London where I felt I could make a difference. I chose where I am because it cares for Air Force personnel. It's still like a gilded cage at times. I have my allowance and at any time Daddy could send me looking for paid employment back home by refusing to pay it, but in London I have the relative freedom to be me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes. You needed to escape and find your own way in the world. You make a difference to many people by giving yourself and doing what you do best. You treat everyone as an individual and show interest in them as a person, not a service number. You care how they feel and want the best outcome for them."

"And you make a difference to me" he added as a bell rang in the distance. "Five o'clock tea," he said with a smile, holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

Mary smiled and put her filthy hand in his with a smile. "We shall".

.

.

* * *

Mrs Raymond watched them walk towards the house holding hands. She smiled. She saw them hesitate in the bare rose garden and Mary say something to Biggles who looked startled and turned quickly to face Mary, his hands on her upper arms. He appeared to give her a slight shake. Mary raised her eyes to meet his shyly. She smiled and nodded slightly. He looked searchingly at her. He put his hand under her chin and lifted it slightly, giving his head a slight shake. Mary smiled and nodded almost imperceptibly. His hand strayed to her cheek in a loving manner and his head bent over hers briefly and ardently. Mary left muddy prints over the back of Biggles tunic.

Mrs Raymond shook her head. "I wonder what that was about, she thought. "And that jacket will need a good sponge down before it's worn again."


	28. Chapter 28

Biggles and Mary took the train back to London the day before he was due back at Rawlham. His colour was getting back to normal.

The train was crowded with armed forces personnel who were heading towards London from surrounding areas. Biggles managed to get a corner seat for Mary and squeezed in beside her, their bags stuffed onto the racks above their heads. They met up with Algy, Taffy, Tex, and Ferocity at Reading station. Algy looked searchingly at Biggles face.

There was a fair wait between trains. Biggles suggested a cup of tea and something to eat while they waited and he and Taffy went to get them from the WVS van.

Algy spoke to Mary quietly. "Malaria?"

Mary nodded. "He thought he was back in India at one point. We were pretty worried. He's really only been on his feet for three days."

"So no wedding?"

"By the time he was on his feet again the vicar was away and wasn't expected back until the end of the week. We rang the local registrar to find what we could do about getting the special licence. We were told it is better to see the registrar for Rochester or London, when we decide where the wedding will be as they couldn't do it"

"It would probably be easier down our way as it will depend on when I can next get leave," Biggles added. He handed Mary and Algy their tea and, reaching into his pocket, produced some sandwiches. "I hope you like jam."

.

.

Arriving in London late afternoon, Algy, Biggles and Mary made their way to Mount Street.

Ginger was waiting for them and was pleased to see them. "I got your telegram saying to expect you around this time," he said, looking at Algy. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm taking Jeanette out for dinner."

"That's all right. I'll eat your share," Algy said ruthlessly.

"Then I'll eat yours and Mary can eat mine. Make the most of it, laddie. It will be the last leave for a while," Biggles smiled sympathetically at Ginger. "Be good and see you in the morning."

"And if you can't be good, be careful," Algy called out after him.

.

.

* * *

In the parlour the wireless was playing a classical concert. Algy, Mary, and Biggles were playing 'Monopoly', a game Ginger had been given for one of his earliest birthdays in Mount Street. Biggles had secured Park Lane and Mayfair early on and had managed to load them up with hotels. Algy landed on Mayfair and Biggles rubbed his hands with glee. "Well, well, well. Let's see. Mayfair with a hotel. That will be two thousand please."

"I haven't got it. You cleared me out when I landed on Regent Street."

"Care to come to a deal?"

"Possibly," Algy said cautiously.

"Give me the mortgages on Old Kent Road and Whitechapel Road."

"But that will give you the whole corner of the board. I don't stand a chance, particularly with Mary owning the rest on that side."

"Bankruptcy, then?"

"Oh all right. You can have them. But I want free passage on Mayfair next time and another throw of the dice."

"Done!"

Algy threw another turn with the dice. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "I'm finished." He rose from the table. "I'm off to bed now. I'll see you in the morning, Biggles. Make sure he gets you home safely, Mary and I'll see you next time."

"'Night, Algy."

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite."

'Oh, go to bed!" snapped Biggles in exasperation.

Algy laughed and left the room. They heard his door close.

Mary packed up the game and put it away while Biggles went down to the kitchen and brought back a pot of tea.

"Are you going to wait up for Ginger?" Mary sat down on the couch and put her tea on a side table.

"Not on your life," Biggles sat beside her with a grin. "I can think of better things to do."

"So can I," Mary replied softly.


	29. Chapter 29

The air was filled with the acrid tang of coal smoke as the steam train came to rest. The doors on the carriages opened swiftly and a tidal wave of people, left the station. The boys of 666 stood and smoked tautly, waiting for the signal to embark and return to war.

Biggles stood silently with Mary a little way apart from his squadron. His lit a cigarette with hands that were slightly unsteady and took a deep drag.

"May I?" Mary indicated the cigarette.

"But you don't smoke," he said, handing it to her with a bemused smile.

"I need to do something. This waiting about is getting on my nerves." She coughed and handed it back to him. "God that's awful. How can you smoke them?"

"I've been smoking for a long time. You won't be taking it up while I'm away then."

"No, dear."

"Glad to hear it, lassie. You know I'm an autocratic bully."

Mary buried her face in his shoulder and held him tightly. "You're not. You're the kindest man in the world," she choked.

Biggles put his arms around her. "I've never been described as kind before," he said quietly. "But you promised me, no tears."

"I'm sorry." He tightened his arms as she fought for control. Her hands clutched at the back of his tunic, her fingers white under the strain. Gently he kissed the top of her head. "You can do it you know."

The clock ticked by the minutes. Biggles continued to talk softly, saying anything that came into his mind. Mary relaxed, soothed by the sound of his voice.

The train gave a scream of impatience. "All aboard!" The passengers started to make their way into the carriages. "I wish there was something special I could give you," Mary said suddenly.

"You have given me something special, darling," he smiled.

"Oy! There's a war on, you know," Algy called, as the others boarded the train.

"See you in a few weeks." Biggles gave Mary a lingering kiss, before picking up his bag and turning away and boarding the train. Mary watched them go.

.

.

There was a flurry of movement and the sound of running footsteps. "Ginger!" a voice called, and a figure pushed through the crowd.

A window was flung open and Ginger's red head appeared. "Jeanette!" He leaned out of the window and she ran to him. He nearly fell out of the window as he kissed her passionately.

With a hiss and a snort the train began to move. Ginger was pulled back through the window by the laughing men and released Jeanette safely.

Jeanette stood crying. Mary could see Biggles standing behind Ginger. He raised his hand in silent farewell and she returned the salute; a lonely little figure in the sea of humanity. She walked over and put her arms around Jeanette as the train disappeared around a bend. "Come and get a cuppa."


	30. Chapter 30

"Dear Mary,

I have managed to secure 48 hours leave, the special licence and our chaplain to marry us here Thursday next week. The only thing I need now is my beautiful bride!

I hope that leaves you enough time to arrange for a bridesmaid and all the fripperies that ladies feel are an essential part of a wedding. Algy says there are a few early wildflowers in the nearby woods to make up a bouquet. Should you want one, he will pick them. Can't have the bride getting her feet wet and catching a cold!

Come down on Wednesday. Our guest accommodation is prepared. Let me know what time and I will meet your train.

We have been fairly busy here. It used to be the murky weather would keep the enemy aircraft at home, but these flying bombs are something completely different. We've been flying by our instruments the last few days. I don't know what this war is coming to!

I hope you know how much I love you.

Until Wednesday,

James."

.

.

* * *

"Dear James,

Thank goodness you do have instruments to fly on. How on earth do you manage to find those flying bombs when you can't see them? When we heard the air raid siren and no planes we thought it must have been a false alarm. Then we saw one of those bombs. They make such a funny sound. It's only when the sound stops we panic.

Agatha and I will come down on the afternoon train and should arrive around four o'clock at Penshurst. I have had a letter from Mummy. She has been unwell and is unable to come to our wedding.

I hope your guest accommodation is a good size- I have a large suitcase full of 'fripperies' as you call them! I may not be a 'beautiful bride', but I will be a happy one.

I can hardly wait to see you on Wednesday.

All my love,

Mary."

.

.

* * *

Biggles, Algy and Bertie sat in the office filling in their reports and having a well-deserved cup of tea.

Bertie's dog, Towser, was curled up on his feet asleep. However he still had one eye open watching for the cat.

The air was heavy with cigarette smoke; the wireless was on and tuned to the BBC forces programme where music was providing some light entertainment.

Algy's feet tapped in time to the music as he wrote. It had been a busy morning, he thought. Once the paperwork had been finished he could go out and continue to weed the vegetables. He'd never been able to convince Biggles that they should plant a garden in Mount Street. It wasn't for want of trying. Biggles pointed out that they had never been home long enough to look after it.

Algy's foot tapping was beginning to get on Biggles' nerves and he lit another cigarette irritably.

The phone on Biggles desk rang. "Yes, Toddy? Put him through. Good morning, sir. How are... What?" Biggles voice changed and became sharp. "When? Yes, yes of course I will come. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Algy looked up as he put the phone down. "What on earth?" he gasped as he saw Biggles face. Bertie looked up at Algy's exclamation and saw the look of tragedy written on his C.O.'s pale face.

"That was Raymond on the phone," Biggles said unsteadily. "You know those flying bombs that got through this morning? Mary was at work this morning when one of them hit." His voice broke. "A wall collapsed on her. She is asking for me."

"I say old chap, will she be alright?"

"They don't know yet, Bertie. She's in shock and it is looking like there might be some damage to her spine."

Algy put his hand on Biggles shoulder. "I'll run you up to London, . You're in no fit state to drive yourself."

"Thanks. Bertie – could you find Ginger and let him know what's happened? He was always fond of Mary."

"Absolutely."

.

.

Biggles and Algy walked over to the car. Algy started it up once they were both in and drove off.

They drove in silence for a while, Biggles lost in thought and Algy concentrating on the road.

"It's my fault!" exclaimed Biggles suddenly.

"Ah, I wondered when your over-inflated sense of responsibility would surface."

"I could have tried to shoot down one more."

"So could I, so could every member of the squadron and every member of every other squadron. But we didn't. We couldn't. This is nobody's fault, except the person who launched that rocket."

"I'm going to find out where it was launched from," Biggles grated.

"And do what? Spend the rest of the war like Tug Carrington, always looking for revenge?"

"I don't know, Algy. I really don't know."

.

.

* * *

It took Biggles and Algy a while to find the right place; the ward was busy with a number of white-coated medical staff moving quietly and efficiently. The other patients were men, some of whom they recognised from other squadrons. Biggles gave his name at the front desk and was directed towards a shielded bed in the farthest corner, close to a window.

Biggles found the Air Commodore seated next to his daughter. He'd aged ten years since he had last seen him.

"How is she, sir?" he said quietly.

Raymond started. "I'm glad you're here, Bigglesworth. She's had a dose of morphine and has been more settled since we told her you were coming, It's allowed the doctors to do a more detailed examination. She's had an X ray and we are waiting for it to come back. It doesn't appear there is anything broken, barring a couple of ribs. The doctors think there might be some nerve damage to her back, but can't be sure because of all the swelling. Once that goes down they will have more idea and be able to run some more tests." He sighed. "And there's still the chance shock might take her. They've strapped her up to stop her moving and minimise any further damage. The fellow she was working with didn't make it."

Biggles barely heard anything Raymond had said. The girl under the white sheet claimed all his attention. Her face was swollen and bruised and her hair had been cut. She lay still, breathing shallowly and rapidly.

Someone brought Biggles a chair and he sat down without noticing. Algy brought him and Raymond a cup of liberally sugared tea from the canteen which Biggles drank without tasting.

Biggles and Raymond sat in silence watching the immobile figure. Algy put his hand on Biggles shoulder. "I'll be in the waiting room."

Biggles nodded absently. There was a murmur of voices around the ward.

A while later, a young doctor came up to them. "Air Commodore Raymond? Could we have a word please?" Both Biggles and the Raymond stood up.

"This is Squadron Leader Bigglesworth, my daughter's fiancé."

"Pleased to meet you," he said with a smile and shook Biggles hand. "It's better news. The X-rays are back. There doesn't appear to be any damage to the vertebrae. She has what we call an incomplete spinal injury. It is most likely caused by swelling putting pressure on the nerves. She may get movement, feeling, both, or nothing, depending on how long it takes the swelling to go down. Only time will tell. We'll know more in a few days. She's being treated for shock and we will monitor her regularly to see there's no internal damage. If there was any major bleeding it would have shown up by now. She's not out of the woods, but it is more hopeful news." He looked at Biggles. "When she wakes up she will need to see you. You must look her directly in the face so she doesn't try to move. Do not try and lift her. She will be very frightened. Keep her calm if you can."

.

He paused and his voice changed slightly. "Miss Raymond will be well looked after here, you can be assured of that. We'll do anything we can. She's given so much to the men here, and we're all very upset. It's just rotten luck it had to happen."

"She helped one of my own men recently," said Biggles. "He's developed quite an interest in the garden because of it and talks about buying a farm one day."

"Ah, that's right. Mackail is one of yours."

.

Mary stirred restlessly. Biggles moved to follow the doctor's instructions and took her hand. "I'm here, old girl."

Mary opened her eyes and tried to move slightly. "It hurts," she whimpered. "I didn't know it would."

Biggles squeezed her hand tighter. "Being buried under a pile of bricks tends to do that."

"Was that what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not really. I remember an explosion and that was it." Her voice took on a hint of hysteria. "James, what's wrong? I can't move."

"The doctors have strapped you up pretty tightly. You've got a couple of broken ribs and hurt your back."

"How bad is it?"

"They're not sure yet, darling, there's too much swelling to be sure, but they think it will improve once it goes down."

"Will I be able to walk?"

"We hope so."

"I'm scared."

He touched her face gently with his free hand. "You and me both"

Mary tried to reach up and pull him closer. Biggles took her other hand, and moved closer, anxious not to hurt her. "You need to try and lie still. You're safe here with me."

"Please don't leave me."

"I'll stay as long as I can. But you need to lie quietly."

Mary lay quietly, and finally dozed. Biggles had been talking softly about some of the places he had visited before the war, trying to describe the sights, sounds, and smells. He barely registered when Air Commodore Raymond left. Biggles gently let go her hands and straightened his aching back.. He listened to her breathe. He was sure she was breathing better than earlier in the day.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. "Sir, it's time for our routine examination. Could you wait outside and we'll call you when we're done," the nurse smiled. Biggles went out, looking a little dazed. Algy was still waiting, reading a magazine. He looked up when Biggles sat beside him. "You didn't have to stay."

"Yes, I did. How is she?"

"They're doing another routine examination now. She's very frightened. Did Raymond say anything as he left to get his wife? "

"Just broken ribs and better news about her back injury."

"They're monitoring for possible internal injuries, but if there is anything it's likely to be small. They're looking her over again now."

"I hope they find there's nothing."

"So do I, old chap."

A nurse beckoned to Biggles. "Looks like I'm wanted."

The doctor was waiting for him to return. "We've found a slight abdominal bleed. We will need to operate and find exactly where it is and repair it."

"Of course," Biggles said worriedly. "How soon will you know?"

"Shouldn't be long. A couple of hours, depending on what it is."


	31. Chapter 31

For the next couple of hours Biggles paced around the waiting room, nearly driving Algy to distraction. Eventually Algy went and purchased sandwiches and tea from the canteen and brought back some for Biggles.

"Sit down for a few minutes," he said, handing Biggles the paper-wrapped packet. Biggles sat down and ate the sandwiches rapidly. Later if asked he would never have been able to remember what he had eaten.

Every time someone looked in he'd look up and half-rise in expectation.

Algy tried to talk with him about anything that came into his mind, to distract him.

Eventually the tired-looking doctor came back. "She's safely through and will be in recovery for the next hour or so," he smiled. "Do you mind if we have a word in private? My office is just along here." Biggles followed the doctor down to his tiny office.

"Is she all right?"

"She appears to be fine. We found the bleed quite easily." He paused and looked searchingly at Biggles. He appeared to be going to say something, cleared his throat and paused with embarrassment.

"Well – out with it, man."

The doctor asked a question.

Biggles went still. "No, I wasn't aware," he said quietly. "My last leave was about then." He thought for a moment. "Would Mary have known?"

"It's fairly unlikely. Unfortunately it has made her more vulnerable to injury. We've repaired everything possible, but only time will tell." The doctor looked up abruptly. "She'll settle better if she knows you are there. Will you stay? It won't be a comfortable night sleeping in a chair, but we can at least give you a blanket."

.

.

.

* * *

Air Commodore Raymond met his wife at the railway station and brought her to the hospital. Biggles was alone in the waiting room, smoking a cigarette.

Susan Raymond still showed signs of her recent illness. "Any news?" she asked Biggles eagerly.

He smiled. "Yes. One of their routine tests shows some positive improvement."

"That's wonderful!" Mrs Raymond exclaimed as one of the nurses came out to the waiting room to tell them they could go back in now.

Mrs Raymond leaned over and kissed Mary gently.

"Hello Mummy," Mary smiled.

"Hello, Mary. I'm here." Mrs Raymond sat in the chair her husband brought her.

"You shouldn't be here when you're still not well."

"I had to come. You understand that." Mrs Raymond smoothed her daughter's hair.

"Daddy should take you home. You need your rest."

"Mary's right, Susan. You're still far from well. Come home now you've seen Mary, dear," Air Commodore Raymond spoke gently to his wife.

Mrs Raymond turned to Biggles. "You'll stay, James?"

"Yes, I promised Mary I would."

Mrs Raymond stood up, swaying slightly. She kissed Biggles on the cheek. "I couldn't have left otherwise," she smiled mistily. Raymond put his hand on Biggles shoulder and gripped it in silent thanks. He kissed his daughter before escorting his wife out of the ward. Biggles sat down and took Mary's hand again.

A nurse woke Biggles just after dawn. He had fallen asleep sometime earlier while holding Mary's hand. He found someone had put a blanket over him. Biggles took the opportunity to put a call through to Algy while the nurse looked after Mary and made her more comfortable.

He sat back down on the chair and took Mary's hand again. He watched her for a while lost in thought. A loud gasp from the girl next to him startled him.

"Mary? Are you all right?"

After that single sound there hadn't been another.

"Mary?" Something like panic seized Biggles and he spoke louder and began to shake her.

A nurse came running. "What happened?"

"She gave a loud gasping breath and I can't get her to wake up. Is she all right?"

"Out of the way please," Biggles stepped back. The nurse quickly called a doctor, who gave her an injection. They began feverishly to pound on her chest while Biggles stood back and watched helplessly.

The doctor stepped back from the bed and turned to the nurse and shook his head.

"She's gone, sir. I'm so sorry."

"But she was improving."

"It was probably a blood clot and it stopped her heart. It sometimes happens after major trauma. She didn't suffer."

Biggles looked bewildered. "I will need to let her parents know."

"We'll do that. Come away now, sir. There's nothing more you can do."

.

Biggles smiled unsteadily. "I promised her I wouldn't leave her. I can at least keep that promise." The nurse smiled understandingly and drew the curtains around the bed leaving Biggles alone with the still figure. He took her hand. "I always thought I'd be the one to go first," he said quietly. "I never thought it would be you." He bent down and kissed her cheek. A tear slid down her face. He brushed it off angrily. When it was replaced by another he realised they were his.


	32. Chapter 32

Biggles walked the few miles from the railway station to the aerodrome in the rain. The foul weather meant that all aircraft were grounded and the boys were on standby in the Mess, with the wireless on, playing cards and reading.

He avoided the main entrance and slipped into the office via the side door. He pushed past Toddy's greeting and went into his office. Algy and Ginger were there and started when the door opened and Biggles' dripping figure appeared.

"I've lost Mary," he said grimly. Algy and Ginger stared. Ginger opened his mouth to say something. "No- don't say anything," Biggles snapped at Ginger and turned to look out the window unseeingly.

.

Ginger slipped out to the mess to get a whisky for Biggles. "It's not for me," he said tersely to the boys giving him a ribbing for starting early on the strong stuff. "The C.O. is back and in a bad way. Mary didn't make it. Bertie – could you go and get a dry set of clothes. He's soaked to the skin."

"Absolutely, old boy." There were murmurs of sympathy from the assembled men. Henry looked shocked. He and Angus had got to know Mary while recovering from their injuries sustained in India.

.

Ginger handed the whisky to Biggles who drained it in one gulp.

"What happened?" asked Algy quietly. "She was improving when I spoke to you this morning."

"I don't really know. Her heart stopped not long after that. I was holding her hand and thinking," he said dully. "Air Commodore and Mrs Raymond are taking her home, but there will be a service, probably in London."

.

There was a scratch at the door and Bertie passed through the dry clothes.

Ginger handed them to Biggles. "You need to get dry."

"Why?"

"You've been out in the rain and you're wet."

"I hadn't even noticed," Biggles said with a twisted smile. He took off his wet clothes and began to put on the dry ones. Ginger scooped up the saturated uniform and went to take it away to dry. "Wait!" snapped Biggles.

He reached into the breast pocket of his tunic and carefully took out a damp picture of himself and Mary together. A folded piece of paper fell out onto the floor. He looked at the photo sadly for a few moments, and placed it near the fire to dry. The paper he picked up, looked at it briefly and dropped it in the fire. "I won't be needing that anymore." Algy looked over as the paper caught fire, obliterating the words 'special licence'.

.

.

Once dressed, Biggles realised how cold he was and moved his chair closer to the crackling warmth, and lit a cigarette.

Ginger came back with a plate of sandwiches and a cup of coffee. Biggles ate and drank while Ginger watched over him anxiously. Algy pulled Ginger back with a shake of his head and indicated for him to sit down.

The colour started to come back into Biggles face and he sighed. "That's better. I didn't realise how hungry I was."

"When did you last eat?" asked Algy.

Biggles thought for a moment. "I don't really know. Maybe the sandwiches yesterday?"

"More coffee?" Ginger asked.

"Please."

"Algy?"

"Thanks." Ginger brought back a pot and two additional cups. Algy put more wood on the fire.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the hissing and crackling as the wood caught. Steam curled from the three coffee cups and smoke mingled from their cigarettes.

.

.

.

* * *

.

.

"What's cooking, Chief?" asked Tex. "Any fresh orders?"

"Until we receive any to the contrary, O'Hara, we will continue to shoot down those flying bombs."

"But I thought…."

"You thought what, Carrington?" Biggles turned his head to stare at Tug.

"701 have been given orders to attack the launch sites around Abbeville. I thought under the circumstances we might have a crack at them as well."

"We do our job, Carrington. Personal circumstances do not come into it," Biggles said harshly. "Orders are orders. Until we are issued with fresh orders we will continue to obey those we have. Understood? Now kit up and get ready, all of you."

"Yes, sir," muttered the men as Biggles stalked out of the mess.

"You might have saved your breath, Tug," remarked Ginger.

"Doesn't he care?" cried Tug in frustration.

"More than you realise. He just won't show it."

.

.

* * *

**August 1944**

A few weeks later Biggles received a call to attend the Air Ministry. Air Commodore Raymond was waiting for him in his office. With him was Captain Lorrington King, better known to friends and enemies as 'Gimlet'.

"Ah Bigglesworth," he smiled tightly. "Take a seat. Have a cigarette."

"Thank you, sir. How are you, Gimlet?"

"Never been better, Biggles. Yourself?"

"I'm all right." Biggles took a cigarette and glanced at the Air Commodore.

"I gather by Captain King's presence you want me to drop him and his men in enemy territory?"

"Oh it's a little more than that this time."

"How do you mean?"

The Air Commodore filled his pipe and lit it before replying slowly. "Operation Crossbow. The complete and total destruction of all the rocket launch sites around Abbeville to be precise," he raised his head and met Biggles' eyes in a long look.

Biggles went still for a moment. "Revenge, sir?"

"Revenge? Oh dear me, no. Nothing so crude."

Biggles paused for a moment. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I want you to work with Captain King and his boys and drop them over at a designated location and to pick them up at a prearranged time. Their task will be to destroy the manufacturing works for these dastardly objects, much of which our agents have identified as being below ground, therefore immune to aerial attack. Your task will be to render useless the launch sites, which are above ground."

"Why now? Why not six weeks ago? Or seven? We've been trying for months."

"Up until yesterday we had no idea of their exact locations, armaments, security, etc. I have had every available intelligence officer out there searching. They've been out there for more than two months risking their lives. We have not been idle, Bigglesworth," he said harshly.

Biggles tapped a cigarette reflectively. "Did I imply that? I'm sorry, it wasn't intended." He smiled slightly. "My boys will be pleased. They've been aching to have a crack at those sites for weeks and couldn't understand why every other nearby squadron has had a go."

"I was in no hurry to waste my best men," Raymond said quietly. "You were far more use then targeting those flying bombs once they were in the air than any other squadron. What you shoot at you usually hit." He looked thoughtfully at Biggles. "And six weeks ago neither of us was in the right frame of mind. I had no wish to send you on what would have been a certain suicide mission."

The three men sat with the maps in front of them and made their plans. The air was hazy with smoke by the time they finished.

"I think a spot of coffee is in order," Raymond smiled and went to the outer office.

.

Gimlet looked at Biggles. "Revenge, Biggles?" he asked softly.

Biggles carefully brought out the water-stained photograph from his breast pocket. He hesitated before passing it to Gimlet. "Mary Raymond," he replied quietly. "A bomb got her."


End file.
